The Might of a Queen
by TragicCure
Summary: AU. Achilles has a sister that will change the lives of all she meets and the outcome of the Trojan War as she dares to defy the King of Kings and make an allegiance of her own. I know the summary sucks, but please read. H/OC,P/H,A/B.
1. Chapter 1

First off, don't own anything associated with the movie from Tory but anything you do not recognize is mine

This is a Hector OC, Paris/Helen and Achilles/Briseis AU. I know many love Andromache, I do too, but this story instantly popped into my head and I couldn't get it out. So there you go.

This is my first FF so be gentle. I welcome your constructive criticism but if you have nothing but flame, don't bother. The story follows the basic plot of the movie, but I have made it my own and many, many things are different. I know the name for Achilla may sound lame since it is the female version for Achilles, but the reason will be explained in later chapters; and besides, the name stuck and I couldn't think of anything else. Some things may not, well most likely aren't, historically accurate but oh well. This is fiction. With that being said, I hope you enjoy my story. Oh, and I am sorry if my grammar and some spelling my suck at times.

Achilla yawned and leaned against Obysseus crossing her arms in a mixture of boredom and frustration as she stood before an army of thousands, something no woman could ever say they did, and waited for the King of Kings to babble on.

Obysseus looked down at the young beauty and grinned when she caught his eyes and rolled hers in annoyance.

They, along with all the armies under King Agamemnon's rule, stood and waited while the King made small talk with King Triopas, another poor sole attempting to keep the honour of his land.

Achilla could sympathize with the older King. Her father was once in the same position and now as a result of her father's will to spare his men and their families unnecessary bloodshed, here she was forced to stand and wait a for battle that would bring yet another title to the poor excuse of a man, Agamemnon. She would have rather fought and died defending her own land than aid Agamemnon's unnatural lust for world domination, all folly in her mind.

Achilla grinned and nodded her head to Agamemnon, "Tell me?" she didn't bother to look up, but knew Obysseus had looked down at her. "Do you ever wonder why he bothers to dress in that ridiculous get up when his blade hasn't seen the blood of an enemy since these wars started?" she asked raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. No soldier would ever overdress himself or in her case, herself, in such heavy armour; besides, the man just ooked ridiculous.

King Obysseus of Ithaca turned his head and focused on Agamemnon and started to chuckle. "Suppose he thinks he is proving a point," he said rubbing his chin. "He is the king of kings after all," he added mockingly.

Achilla, who was still leaning against Obysseus, scoffed and scrunched her face. "What point would that be? It only tells me that he is too fat, too old and too heavily overdressed to even think he could wield his sword," she looked up at Obysseus who burst into laughter.

Achilla soon joined him along with her and Obysseus' men who were behind them and had heard her comment.

Said King turned and glared at her hearing the obvious noise behind him. Achilla only grinned back and nodded her head mockingly at him laughing even more at the anger evident on his scarred face.

Achilla's laughter died when a large cheer erupted from the opposing Army as an extremely large man, who answered by the name of Boagrius, stepped forward as his King called.

Achilla narrowed her eyes in observation. "Well, he certainly is a match for Ajax," she said looking over the large man of nothing but bulk and muscle.

Obysseus frowned. "Agamemnon wishes for a one-on-one battle, it is the old custom." He watched as Agamemnon turned and scanned around them, "He is going to make you fight," he said looking down at Achilla.

Before she could even register what Obysseus had said the bane of her existence called for her.

"ACHILLA!" Agamemnon bellowed.

Achilla ignored the call and continued to defy the King, taking in the pleasure of his growing rage as he turned and glared at her to come forward.

Just as Agamemnon was going to storm up to her, Nestor put his hand up to Agamemnon and walked to Achilla. "Achilla, you can save these soldiers. They can have a chance to return to their families, unharmed and well. Would you deny them that right when you know you can prevent it?" he knew he had her. Nothing meant more to the Myrmidon Queen than the lives of her people.

Achilla let out a dramatic sigh and straightened herself. Ignoring Nestor, she turned to Obysseus. "Excuse me while I go see what the pig wants me to do now." She winked at Eudorus who grinned, and walked off with nothing but the grace of the Queen she was.

Achilla stood in between Kings Agamemnon and Triopas. Nodding to King Triopas out of respect and ignoring Agamemnon's glare she sighed irritably while leaning all her weight on her right leg, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow waiting for the King to explain why he summoned her.

If she and her damn brother weren't so invaluable, Agamemnon would have broke, tortured and killed her long ago. "Where is Achilles?" he asked thru gritted teeth.

Achilla, ignoring his obvious attempt to sound superior to her, shrugged. "Perhaps he is still on top of his whores where we left him," she replied raising her hand to inspect her nails to indicate her boredom.

King Triopas chuckled. "Lose your soldiers already?" he asked, his eyes sparkling in mirth.

The large, bluging veins in Agamemnon's neck showed his rage as he damned that man and nodded at Achilla. "Well you shall fight for him today," he commanded raising his chin.

King Triopas full on laughed. "A woman?" he asked in disbelief pointing to Achilla.

Agamemnon grinned as he saw the fire in Achilla's eyes ignite as she glared murder at the enemy King. "Are you worried you will lose?" Agamemnon asked. He couldn't have asked for better words to come out of the stupid King's mouth. She was a woman yes, but she was as deadly as Achilles and he had no qualms using her. When men doubted her for her gender it only fuelled the fire within her. It always made for a greater victory when it was won by a woman and one of such beauty. He would die before telling her that though.

King Triopas was oblivious to the woman who could have killed him with her glare and just smiled. "I assure you, I am anything but," he then looked Achilla in the eye and the smile that had been on his face fell at what he saw, nothing but pure rage and hatred.

Achilla grinned menacingly at the King as she looked him in the eye and chuckled when he took an involuntary step back. Nodding in approval of her effect on the man, she turned and walked back to her men without a look to Agamemnon.

Eudorus handed Achilla her shield and sword as she reached him. "Have fun!" he said with a grin.

Obysseus nodded and leaned into Achilla as she put on her helmet, "And try to make it quick. It's rather hot." He leaned back and grinned as Achilla rolled her eyes.

Achilla walked forward next to Agamemnon and Nestor, cracked her neck and focused on the giant across from her. "Imagine a King of Kings who could fight his own battles," she said loud enough for all to hear. She turned her head and glared down at Agamemnon, hiding the smirk when he gulped, "Wouldn't that be a sight!" she said in a low growl.

As Achilla took a step forward and eyed her opponent, her name began to be chanted by the Greeks behind her. Stopping, she cocked her head to the side and raised her shield in salute. They were showing their respect for the woman who would risk her life for their own, just like she and her brother had done many times before.

Turning back to face Boagrius, Achilla heard the opposing army chant for their own warrior as he mocked her with his battle stance and roared with laughter that a woman was sent to fight. Fury filled her veins as she walked towards the large man. She hated how her gender was so degraded. She lived for proving men wrong and took great joy in the satisfaction when she looked down at the shocked eyes of the man she killed. This man would be no different.

Achilla knew how to handle this type; she would use his size against him and toy with him. She would show him and the entire army a woman was to be feared, she was to be feared. Recalling Obysseus' words she decided against toying and broke into a run to speed things up and unsheathed her sword.

Boagrius who was laughing at the woman playing in armour, stilled as she started to run at him at an alarming speed. Was she serious? Gripping his spear, he hurled it at her wanting to put end to this quickly.

Achilla, unfazed by the hurling spear before her, blocked it easily with her shield. The spear broke clean thru, stopping inches from her face. Achilla just thru her shield to the side as if it was nothing thus allowing her to pick up more speed.

Boagrius frowned. Something about this woman was not right. He could see the grin on her face from where she was and quickly hurled another spear hoping that now since she had no shield it would hit its mark.

Achilla dodged the spear by easily jumping to the left and not losing an ounce of momentum. Unsheathing his sword she could see the doubt and confusion clearly in Boagrius' eyes. That is the look she loved when they realized they had met no mere wench but a woman of war. Sidestepping to confuse the man, she didn't falter in her speed and used it to launch off the ground, easily out of the way of his blade, jumped in the air and thrust her blade into the soft flesh where the shoulder meets the neck.

Achilla's sword was out as quickly as it was in and her feet landed with grace. The silence of the army before her made her grin. She had proven her point.

Without looking at her opponent, Achilla walked towards King Triopas who stood staring at her then at his fallen warrior in shock, disbelief and confusion.

Achilla stood before the armies of the men and waited patiently for any other who thought her an easy target to step forward.

"Who are you?" King Triopas finally muttered after finding his voice and slowly walking to her.

Achilla turned her head ever so slowly towards the king and smirked. "A woman!" she said proudly.

Never in all his years had King Triopas been so speechless. This creature before him had bested his best man with such little effort, it made him look disgraceful; however, the fact that she was a woman alone and had won with such ease, warranted nothing but respect.

With those thoughts, King Triopas bowed his head out of respect for her. "Forgive an old man and his foolish ways my lady," he said lowly.

Achilla slightly surprised, just stared at the King as he continued to bow and waited for her to accept his apology. She moved her gaze to the many men who she had spared this day and watched as some nodded in agreement with their King while others placed their fists over their hearts in a display of respect and honour. Of course she sneered at the ones who looked at her with nothing but contempt and disgust, but continued to stay in line too cowardly to challenge her.

Turning back to the still bowed King, Achilla placed her hand on his shoulder. "Rise King and know that I accept your apology," the way she spoke had an air of royalty.

King Triopas smiled and rose, looking her in the eyes and finding them to be beautifuly blue and mesmerizing; he could only image what face graced her beautiful body that was hidden under her helmet. Holding out his hand that clutched a golden sceptre, the symbol of his kingship, he presented it to Achilla. "The ruler of Thessaly carries this sceptre. Give it to your king," he said solemnly, opening his palm for her to take the sceptre.

Turning her head and nodding at the soldiers one last time she swivelled and watched as Agamemnon approached in his chariot, a smug look on his face. Barely reigning in her anger she glanced at King Triopas one last time. "He," nodding to Agamemnon, "Is not my king," she hissed and walked away with her head held high.

Achilla passed Agamemnon without a glance and headed back towards the Greek army. As she approached her men she heard Achilles name being chanted among the soldiers. Her dear brother decided to grace her with his presence, how thoughtful she mused to herself.

Odysseus and Eudorus both walked to meet her. "Well done my Queen," Eudorus praised clapping her shoulder.

Achilla smiled and nodded.

"Was that quick enough for you?" Achilla asked raising an eyebrow at Obysseus, a slight grin on her face.

Odysseus just laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I suppose," he replied grunting when the back of her hand hit his gut.

"Sister!" came the calm, collected voice of her brother as he dismounted his horse and scanned the area around them. "You started without me?" he asked sarcastically as she, Odysseus and Eudorus approached.

Achilla removed her helmet and shook her head, a wave of gold curls flowing down her back, and shrugged. "Sorry brother but when I went to inform you of the battle the sounds that were coming from your hut indicated you were in the midst of your own conquers," she wrinkled her nose in disgust having a mental picture form in her mind and recalling said sounds.

Achilles grinned while everyone chuckled. "So…," eyeing her bloody sword, "A battle of old?" he asked.

Achilla nodded. "It was easy, quick and saved the lives of our men," she said smiling to her men who were standing behind Achilles, all grinning back along with the rest of the Greeks that watched her. Her smile was infectious. It could warm the coldest of hearts and make empires crumble at her every whim and she knew it, but she never used it to her advantage nor was she a snob. Well, she tried not to use it to her advantage.

Achilles had hid his anger well. He did not like his little sister fighting without him. Not that he doubted her for a moment, in fact she was his equal in the art of war, but he still feared for her. He knew how Agamemnon loved to use her for his own purposes and knowing that only made him loath the man all the more so, if that was at all possible.

Achilles looked across where said King still stood with King Triopas discussing things he cared nothing about. Realizing there was no need to linger he grinned at Achilla. "Come," he tussled her hair playfully. "Let us return to our homes and be grateful we don't have to look at the hideous face of Agamemnon for another day."

Letting out a roar of laughter, the armies all followed the Myrmidon King and Queen to their homes.

_Sorry if it's a bit short, but I have more. If you like it let, please review and let me know to continue. Thanx :) _


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you __CarolinaJuliette__ for your review! I hope you, along with whoever else reads and doesn't review (which I beg that you do), like this chapter._

Agamemnon watched as his brother Menelaus left his throne room with confident strides, what a fool the King thought to himself.

Nestor looked at Agamemnon with confusion, "You realize you just agreed to go to war over a woman?" There had to be some alternative motive behind such an outrageous idea.

Agamemnon just looked at Nestor with a smug look on his face and leaned his palms on the opposite side of the desk where Nester sat, "Do you honestly think I give a damn about that little whore?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Nestor furrowed his brow, "Well no, but…"

Agamemnon shook his head with a sly grin, "I always knew she was a foolish woman, her beauty was all she was good for." He pushed himself off the desk and slowly paced towards his throne.

"In this instance, she has proved to be very useful." The King stopped as he gazed upon his solid gold throne and smiled. He couldn't have planned it better himself.

Nestor stood and leaned over the table, "My King, Troy has never been defeated; many believe it can't. If we go to war all because of a woman, the Greeks will laugh at you," he replied sharply.

Agamemnon spun around at an alarming speed for a man his age and size and stalked towards his advisor, "King Priam thinks he is untouchable behind those walls of his; he thinks the sun God will protect him," he slammed his fist on the desk, eyes blazing in anger, "Well let me tell you, the Gods only protect the strong. Does hiding behind a wall sound strong to you?" he asked, his head cocked to the side.

Nestor dare not tell his true opinion and only nodded dutifully.

Agamemnon stood up straight, "And the Greeks…" he looked down at the map that covered the desk and ran a chubby finger over Troy, "the Greeks will do whatever I damn well tell them," his tone strong and confident. He was so close; if he defeated Troy, he would control all of the Aegean.

Nestor narrowed in at the King, it was imperative that he understood what awaited them should he be serious about this. "Hector controls the finest army in the East. He is said to be the greatest in all of Troy," he strongly informed. He knew of the Trojans, many did, and they were not to be underestimated. He did not believe that "hiding" behind their walls to be a weakness but one quite the opposite.

"And I will attack with the greatest army known to man," Agamemnon replied quickly, his eyes blazing in determination, "I have all the Kings of Greece and their armies." There was no way Troy could match his army, it would fall in a week.

Returning to his pacing, Agamemnon crossed an arm over his chest his other resting on it while he fingered his beard, "Send emissaries in the morning I want—,"

Nestor who was following Agamemnon's movements with his eyes, cut him off, "Does that include the Myrmidons?" he asked.

Agamemnon stopped his pacing and tilted his head to the ceiling sighing in frustration, "Achilles is uncontrollable and Achilla would most likely join the Trojans and fight against us." Of all the people favoured by the Gods, he hated those two with every fibber of his being.

"It does not matter if you cannot control Achilles, we need to unleash him. And as for Achilla…" Nestor moved out from behind the desk and leaned against the edge on the other side, "She will follow her brother only to ensure he does not kill himself. She will control him. If you convince one, the other will follow." He crossed his arms and knew the King was going to hate to hear this, "The armies will not wish to fight without them Agamemnon, you know that."

Agamemnon blinked unable to believe his advisor was daring enough to say such a thing. "They will fight when and where I tell them to fight; and they will fight with our without the Myrmidons," he yelled waving his arms around. "I brought the damn kingdoms together, I created this nation and I am the future, not Achilla and Achilles," he snarled "ME!" he yelled pointing to himself.

Nestor only stared in silence as Agamemnon began to pace again, his robes swaying behind him as he muttered to himself. Parts of Nestor wondered about the kings sanity. The look in Agamemnon's eyes was starting to unnerve the normally faithful advisor for he was finding himself believing Agamemnon's quest for domination was starting to get out of hand, the lust for power starting to cloud his judgement. Agamemnon may, may, win but at what cost? Troy would not fall easily and without the Myrmidons, well he actually found himself doubting the Greeks even stood a chance. Still, even if Achilla and Achilles were to fight, too many Greeks were going to die before victory could be achieved. There were too many doubts.

Agamemnon stopped his pacing, took a deep breath and looked Nestor in the eyes, "Achilla and Achilles are the past. Achilla believes in peace." He chuckled at that thought, "Peace is for woman and the weak."

Nestor lowered and shook his head. "Achilla is anything but week," he said lowly. He raised his head to meet the Kings eyes and chose to ignore the deadly look Agamemnon's was giving him and continued, "How many battles have we won by their swords alone?" he questioned.

Agamemnon twirled around in frustration and stalked back towards his thorn, "Yes, they are gifted killers." Turning back to face Nestor he pointed his finger in the man's direction, "But Achilla alone threatens everything I have built." He hated that woman more than Achilles; actually, as he stood there and pondered over it, he wasn't quite sure who he hated more.

Nestor walked towards his King with such a calm demeanour it only irritated Agamemnon further, "This will be the greatest war the world has ever seen my King. Your name will be whispered throughout history as the man who conquered the unconquerable." He paused to let his words sink in, "To achieve such a great victory, we need the greatest warriors," he finished.

Agamemnon rubbed his temples to sooth the pounding in his head. Looking back at Nestor who had a triumphant look on his face, he growled in anger and turned to leave the room. As he reached the exit he stopped and turned back to face Nester, "There is only one man that either of them will listen to."

When Nestor nodded knowing said man, Agamemnon turned and left. "Not that I trust him anymore than those damn Myrmidons," he muttered under his breath as he left.

Achilla had missed her home in Phtia, this was her heaven. The warm sun, soft breeze of ocean air was what brought her joy in life as she stood at the highest cliff where her and Achilles palace sat and watched her people bustle about their daily lives in the city bellow.

Leaning against the stone ruin that marked as a reminder of her ancestors, Achilla closed her eyes and enjoyed the wind in her face as it blew her hair around while she waited for her brother and cousin to train. It was only a matter of time before Agamemnon called her and Achilles to war, and she was going to enjoy these moments of peace.

Achilles stood at the top of the steps and watched his sister; her long light blue sarong was flowing in the wind, the opening showing over the toned muscles of her left leg and upper thigh, her top consisting of strategically wrapped linen over her upper body left her torso exposed with her long blond hair flowing around her. She was in every essence, beautiful. If he was only lucky to find someone like his sister, he would be truly blessed. But he was Achilles, a warrior feared in many lands. What right did he have to such happiness? Yet, here before him was the light to his world. He had a family to love and he wouldn't ask for more.

Patroclus walked up to his older cousin and handed him the wooden practice sword wordlessly. Following Achilles' line of sight, he smiled at the image of his cousin. She was only a few seasons older than him yet was equally feared as Achilles. Her skill in warfare, her kindness and leadership as a Queen had given her the title of a Goddess.

Grinning, Patroclus turned to Achilles, "Shall we join her?" he asked twirling his wooden practice sword around playfully.

Achilles grinned while nodding in agreement and led the prince soundlessly down the steps towards his sister.

Achilla had heard her cousin talking at the top of the steps and smiled to herself as she heard the feeble attempts to stalk up on her. Her practice sword was leaning on the steps behind her which only made the game more fun.

Waiting till Achilles was almost upon her, Achilla spun around and ducked as Achilles made a strike for her head.

"Brother/cousin, your steps are too heavy," she teased as she twirled around a pillar to escape Patroclus' jab, kicking him from behind as she came back around on the other side, allowing her to dash for her sword.

"I believe you are getting fat!" Achilla laughed as she rolled, grab her sword and swivelled around to parry her brother's strike as he caught up to her.

Grinning, Achilles lifted his foot as she made to sweep it out from under him and laughed, which came out as a grunt when her shoulder met with his gut, as she smacked her sword against Patroclus' calf, ducking his jab for her head. Her small size always gave her the advantage since she was always to close to swing with a sword.

"Are you calling me fat cousin?" Patroclus asked appalled as he rubbed his swore calf and charged at her again.

Achilla laughed and ran away from him only to run up a pillar, flip over him and kick out his unexpected legs as soon as her feet hit the ground.

"I believe I am," she panted as she quickly turned and parried Achilles strike and charged, dancing around each other and shouting out tips here and there when a weakness was found.

Achilla smacked Achilles' sword away and faked a kick to his shins only to bring her fist around and strike him in the face. Laughing as he staggered back with a shocked look on his face, she swung her sword behind her back to parrying Patroclus' hit. Achilla gave a slight thrust up giving her a chance to twist around and began to run around the ruins with her cousin, spinning around pillars and flipping over boulders.

Achilles stood with his arms crossed and just watched as Achilla taunted Patroclus with her smart words; her fancy footwork and dance like moves glided her easily around Patroclus and his feeble attempt to best her. Taking a hint of pity for the boy, Achilles called out instructions to his young cousin as he watched his family with pride.

Breaking Achilles peace, he sighed angrily as the sound of hoof-beats reached his ears. No doubt a messenger was here to tell him news of a new war. Everyone knew Menelaus' wife, Helen, had run off with the Trojan Prince, Paris. Being a proud man, Menelaus would obviously run like a wounded dog to his brother, Agamemnon, and demand an army be sent for her. This of course would mean he and Achilla would be forced to join; if they could force them that is.

Walking over to a fray of weapons, Achilles flicked up a spear with his foot and without even bothering to see who it was, turned and hurled the spear into a tree inches from the messengers head.

Achilla was straddling her cousin tickling him when she heard the thud of the spear. Looking up, she leapt to her feet and ran next to Achilles, "Odysseus!" she yelled out in greeting, her arm waving in the air as she recognized Achilles' messenger.

Odysseus ignored the spear and grinned widely at the family. He could hear their laughter at the bottom of the hill and the smiles on the villagers faces only confirmed they could hear it as well and were happy to have their royal family home.

"Greetings!" he said dismounting and kissing Achilla on both cheeks as she ran to embrace him. He grinned down at her and as always, marvelled at her beauty. Ocean blue eyes, tanned skin, high check bones, delicate nose, full pink lips and long golden curls made one smile instantly.

Achilles stood next too a grinning Patroclus as he eyed Odysseus suspiciously. He did not like it when that man came to see them alone, it only meant one thing.

With his arm draped around Achilla's shoulder, Odysseus walked up to Achilles. "You know…" he said with a smile, "Your reputation for hospitality is becoming as fast a legend as you are my friend," he nodded behind him to the spear that was imbedded in the tree.

Achilles continued to stare. "How is your wife Odysseus?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Odysseus sighed and removed his arm from Achilla who joined her brother's side, "She is well thank you and sends her love."

Achilla nodded, "I suppose she is not happy with you leaving for another war so soon after your return." A slight grin formed on her lips as all three men turned to look at her with surprise.

"What?" she asked looking at them like they were daft. "Achilles," she pointed her finger in his face, "I know you figured out the reason he was here the moment you saw him," She squeaked when her brother wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her too him.

"My sister is too smart for us," he said dryly, "I'm afraid we are all doomed." He yelped as she pinched a tender spot under his arm and immediately released her.

Patroclus scrunched his face in confusion, "What are you two talking about?" he asked eyeing his cousins who seemed to have forgotten he was there.

Achilles turned to Patroclus and clapped him on the back, "Our cousin Patroclus." He nodded to Odysseus, "Our friend King Odysseus of Ithaca," he said in introduction.

Patroclus straightened immediately, it was a great honour for any King to be called friend and shook the older man's hand eagerly.

"Patroclus…" Odysseus tested the name as he studied the young prince. "Son of Menoetius?" he asked.

Patroclus nodded.

"I knew your parents and am sorry for your loss." Odysseus continued, "They were good friends and are missed," he said mournfully.

Patroclus gave a half-smile and weak nod of his head. His parents had died at sea when Poseidon claimed their ship during a violent storm only a year past. Achilla and Achilles being his only family had welcomed him with open arms to live and now he was a prince.

Achilla moved next to her cousin and linked her arm with his knowing the mention of his parents still pained him. She rested her head on his arm and smiled up into his strong face when he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his chest and resting his head on top of hers perfectly; his way of welcoming her silent comfort.

Odysseus smiled at the family as Achilles looked lovingly at the two, "Kings would kill for the honour to train with Achilla and Achilles, you are blessed with such an honour," he said to Patroclus who beamed with pride and hugged Achilla tighter to him.

Achilla chuckled but immediately sobered, "Enough with the sweet talk Odysseus, we don't need your flattery. Why don't you get to the real reason you are here?" She wanted him to get to the point and knew he was stalling.

Odysseus nodded and slightly dropped his shoulders, "I am sure you are aware of the have news we need to discuss." His eyes darted between Achilles and Achilla nervously.

Achilles stood arms crossed and legs spread wide, the irritation evident on his handsome face, "Tell me you are not here at Agamemnon's bidding?" he asked his tone in tune with the irritated look still on his face.

Odysseus hesitation in answering Achilles was all the confirmation he needed. Sighing he turned to his sister who was shaking her head that was resting on her cousins chest. "How many times have we done the savage work for the King of Kings?" he asked turning back to face Odysseus, "And when has he shown us the respect we've earned?" his blue eyes piercing.

Odysseus understood perfectly; Agamemnon cared not for those who fought his wars, only for the glory it brought him. But no matter what, war was to come and the only way to ensure as many Greeks were spared was for Achilles and Achilla to fight with them.

"I don't ask you to fight for him. I ask you both to fight for the Greeks, for your people," Odysseus waved his hand out behind him in the direction of their land.

Achilles shook his head, "Why should we? Are the Greeks tired of fighting each other?" Agamemnon claimed he brought the Greeks together, but it was known that it was only for his selfish gains and not for the better of Greeks. Odysseus was still naive to think that Agamemnon was doing things for the grater good of the Greeks and not his own selfish gains.

Odysseus just shrugged, "For now...Or at least until this war is over and there is not another one to fight and we get bored," he said with a slight chuckle.

Achilla sighed and leaned away from Patroclus taking a step towards Odysseus, she completely agreed with her brother. Odysseus sure knew how to sweet-talk. "The Trojans have done nothing to us, we have no reason to fight with them," she said dryly.

Achilla had nothing but respect for the legendary city that was yet to be defeated. Frankly, she didn't blame Helen for leaving Menelaus, the man was hideous and too much like his brother. Achilla had met Helen before and found her to be beautiful and pitied her life for it had obviously broken her. What Achilla didn't agree with though was how the woman went about leaving her husband. Leaving with the Princes' just after they made peace with Menelaus was by far the stupidest decision one could make. When she had first heard of the Spartan Queen's actions, she had been enraged. Helen and this Prince Paris had knowingly brought death to the Greek and Trojans by their actions and she found it selfish, reckless, dishonourable and utterly disgraceful. She wanted to march to Tory just to slap some sense into the two love sick fools.

Odysseus narrowed his eyes, "Achilla, they insulted Greece!" he replied as if it was a reason enough to cause a war.

Achilles rolled his eyes, "No, they insulted one Greek, a man who couldn't hold onto his wife. Not that I blame her for leaving," he replied grinning as Achilla chuckled indicating she agreed. "What business is that of ours then?" he asked turning back to face Odysseus.

Odysseus was not going to give up. "Your business is war," his calm statement rang out in truth.

Sure both Achilles and Achilla were born for war, but the point was they did not like having to fight a war not of their choosing and definitely not one as frivolous as fighting the Trojans for a woman. There were plenty of those around.

Achilla frowned when she saw her brother deep in thought and snapped her head back to Odysseus, "We are not hired swords to be bought." She took another step towards Odysseus, her eyes narrowed and blazing, "And we most certainly will not be ordered about as if we were nothing but mercenaries. If he wants to wage a pointless war over a woman, he can do it himself," she yelled.

Odysseus' eyebrows rose at her outburst and looked at Achilles for help. Reading his friends distress, Achilles pulled Achilla to his chest and held her there. Her breathing was hard and fast only confirming the inner demon in her raging.

Odysseus meet Achilla's eyes, he felt it was her he needed to convince since Achilles silence spoke enough. "Forget Agamemnon and fight for me," he gave her a warm smile, knowing he was fighting low but it had to be said. "My wife will fell much better with you both at my side," he looked between the two, "I'll feel better."

Achilla just glared at Odysseus and hoped he realised how lucky he was Achilles was holding her. Sometimes she really, really, hated this man. He knew he had used fancy words to guilt her into this. He knew she would only fight for those she loved or if it served a greater purpose. _Damn him_.

Feeling left out and rather excited at the prospect of battle, Patroclus stepped forward. "I assume Ajax is going to fight?" he asked saying the man's name in awe.

Odysseus smiled. "You have heard of him?" he asked turning to the boy.

Patroclus smiled and nodded. "I have, Achilla has told me great stories of him and his mighty axe. I have heard he can fall an oak tree with one swing," he said it as if it was the greatest of all accomplishments.

"Trees don't swing back," Achilles added with a half smile while still holding his sister. Sure he thought the man great, but he felt the blunt force used was a disadvantage.

Sensing the enthusiasm on Patroclus' face, Odysseus decided to try a different approach; Achilla was going to hate him for what he was about to say. "You know, we are sending the largest fleet that ever sailed – a thousand ships," he could see Achilla and Achilles frown out of the corner of his eye knowing they saw right through his words.

But the words were said and Patroclus' interest immediately intensified. "A thousand ships?" he asked in awe, his eyes wide picturing such a grand army. Suddenly a realization hit him and his face dropped slightly "Prince Hector, do you believe he is as good a warrior as they say?" There was always a chance that someone could be better than his cousins, not that he doubted them in the least, but the concern and worry was evident.

Achilla was about to say something when Odysseus beat her too it, "The best in all the Trojans." Eyeing Achilles he continued, "Some say he's better than the Greeks too." The flash in the man's eyes only confirmed that Odysseus had guaranteed his spot in the war; Achilles cared only for his name to be remembered and this new information now gave him a solid reason to fight.

Grinning at this realization, Odysseus turned back to Patroclus, "Even if one or none of your cousins come, I hope you will join us Patroclus. We could use a strong arm like yours." He saw the rage in Achilla's face and wondered if he had gone too far.

Achilla shoved Achilles' arms off and brought her face right up to Odysseus', "You play your tricks on us." Her normally sparkling blue eyes were hard and dark with anger, "Your pretty words may win us over but you leave our cousin out of this," she hissed.

Odysseus knew he had now won her over. She chose her own side and that was to protect her family and people. Achilles would go to seal his name in history, Patroclus would of course follow leaving Achilla with no choice but to come and make sure her men lived. But the look in her eyes told him that she would not hesitate to kill him should he be at fault for one of their deaths.

Nodding triumphantly, Odysseus grinned, "You both have your swords, I have my tricks and pretty words," his grin growing. "We play with the toys the Gods gave us," he finished with a slight shrug.

Patting Achilla's shoulder and winking at Achilles he knew he had gotten what he came for and walked to his horse. Swinging up with a grace of a King he addressed the Myrmidon King and Queen, "We sail for Troy in Three days." Then turning his horse to leave, he spun around quickly and focused in on Achilles, "This war will never be forgotten. Nor will the heroes who fight in it." He spun back around and left with those parting words echoing in their ears.

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	3. Chapter 3

_My thanks t__o all the wonderful individuals who reviewed: CarolineJuliette, James-louise, EmeraldSeaFrost, Maddsy and Lulu. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. _

Hector rested his palms on the stone railing of his balcony and hung his head as he was once again consumed with guilt, grief and pain. He had given into his foolish brother and condemned Troy to war and death to hundreds of his fellow countrymen.

Hector lifted his head and watched the pinks and oranges of the rising sun dance across the land outside the magnificent gates of Troy. Soon this land would be covered with the bodies of countless Trojans who would be forced to defend a princess not their own all because a silly woman and boy fell in love and disgraced a poor excuse for a King, and he let it all happen.

What would his precious Andromache say? How he longed to have her next to him now. She would wrap him in her long, slender arms and hold him while telling him everything a man needs to hear.

Reminiscing about his lost wife moved Hector to walk over to his son's crib and gaze down at the precious boy she had died giving him, her last gift. It was still only a year ago that she left and yet it was as if it happened yesterday. His heart was healing yes, but it still yearned for her touch, her love and her smile.

Picking up his sleeping son, Hector drew comfort knowing he was holding a part of her as he began to rock the precious bundle softly; he had missed his son while away.

Running the back of a finger down a soft cubby cheek, he thought of the fate of his son. What would happen to him? Had he not promised Andromache that he would protect him? What had he just done by allowing a foolish brother his trophy? Hector stood frozen at the harshness of reality and clenched his eyes shut trying to control the emotions flooding his body.

"My son how are you?" An ever calm, collected voice said from behind him.

Hector's eyes snapped open and he turned to his father. "I am fine father." He moved back to the crib and placed his son delicately down on the soft bedding, tucking him in and placing a loving kiss on his forehead.

King Priam smiled at his grandson and cupped his small head as Hector moved. "Such a beautiful child," he said adoringly.

Hector smiled as a proud father should and nodded in agreement.

"You are taking too much responsibility for this Hector," the King said still not looking at his son but at his first grandson, another generation of Kings. How blessed he was to witness the birth off another generation.

Hector sighed and walked back out on the balcony not wanting to disturb his sleeping babe. "We have willingly brought war to Troy by allowing her to come here and I cannot live with the images of our dying people, my son…" His voice trailed off not able to let the words leave his mouth.

King Priam stood next to Hector and shook his head 'no'. He watched the emotions play on his eldest son's face and smiled proudly. Hector was his pride and joy; he was every father's dream of what a son should be. Of course he loved Paris, but Paris also cared more about himself and his feelings often neglecting to think about the consequences of his actions; the said situation being the prime example. It did not mean he loved his son less, only differently.

"Greece has wanted to take Troy for years," King Prima finally said turning his head to look out over the land he had ruled with all his love. "Agamemnon cares not for Helen or Menelaus but for his conquests. He will come yes, but not for Helen," he said wisely.

Hector sighed casting his eyes downward. He knew that, but he still couldn't help but wonder if war could have been prevented if he had not let the love he had for his brother rule his heart.

King Priam turned and cupped his son's cheeks, kissing each one with fatherly passion. "Agamemnon would have come eventually, that you know." He paused and stared deep into his son's eyes. "We will face him as we have countless other enemies and with you at my side, Troy will not fall my son." His voice held such conviction that Hector couldn't help but smile.

Hector leaned into his father's hand and nodded. They would fight and they would win. He would not let Troy fall for the silly mistakes of his brother. He still believed Paris and Helen were the cause of this inevitable war and he vowed not to let his people pay for the selfish mistakes of others.

Father and son stood in silence watching their land when they saw the first dot appear on the horizon followed shortly by many, many more. The war they expected and feared had come.

Paris couldn't bring himself to face the reality that was right outside his large, oak doors. He couldn't deal with the fact that they were here for Helen, for him. So he continued to stand at the edge of his balcony and watched as his brother led their armies out to war.

He had been in the same spot since sunrise, void of all thought and emotion as he spotted the first ship with many more following it, the numbers endless. He had watched when the lead ship with solid black sails landed on the beach. The Greeks had landed on his beach and now Hector was going to fight his war.

He had knowingly brought this war. He had asked his brother not to fight his wars and where was he now? Ridding off to fight not for Helen, a woman he hardly cared for, but for him. Hector was fighting his war for him and he was letting him. The sad reality was he expected him to.

Paris clenched his eyes shut when he knew that his brother had engaged the Greeks. He had used Hectors endless, loyal love for him to get what he wanted. He always did. He couldn't help but feel that he had gone too far this time. He had brought potential death to his family, to Hector. Hector always protected him, always stood up for him, and was always there for him in whatever way Paris needed. If Troy lost Hector, if he lost Hector, he knew that there would be no hope for him or Troy. Hector was just too important and Paris had completely disregarded that when he chose his love for Helen over his brother's life, his countrymen's lives.

Paris hung his head in despair; he was unworthy of his brother's love.

Unable to take his minds torture, Paris turned around, leaned against the railing and gazed at the form of the goddess lying peacefully in his bed. Just looking at her and knowing he had been blessed with her love, holding her in his arms and warming his bed at night washed away all his guilt. If he had to do it again, he would. He loved her so much it hurt. He had known the moment he gazed at her beauty he would not leave her with Menelaus. She was his life.

Sighing deeply, Paris turned back around and spread his arms wide, his palms holding his weight as he leaned on the stone railing and prayed to the Gods for his brother's safe return.

Barley a moment later, small, delicate hands encircled Paris' exposed waist from behind, fingering his abdominal muscles while soft, warm kisses trailed down his spine.

Paris felt his body shudder and goose bumps formed on his arms as Helen continued her gentle kisses. "My love," he whispered huskily trying to control his body's growing reaction to her touch. Now was certainly not the time.

Helen smiled at the effect she had on him and leaned her forehead against his back, holding him tightly to her. She couldn't get enough of him. She needed him to hold her, touch her and kiss her as much as possible. It was as if he had become her very soul.

Paris turned slightly in her embrace and wrapped an arm around her slender frame bringing her to his chest and kissing the top of her head softly. He knew that she was going to react badly when she saw what was going on.

Helen buried her head in his chest and let out a sigh of content as they stood in comfortable silence. She could not believe how blessed she was to be encircled in his arms.

Turning her head slightly, the content smile that was on Helen's delicate face immediately vanished as she saw that her worst fears had reached Troy.

Unable to form words, Helen pushed out of Paris' embrace and felt the blood rush from her head. Placing a quivering hand on the stone ledge, she brought other hand to her face in shock as silent tears trickled down her cheeks while she tried to count the endless Greek ships that littered Troy's shores.

Paris' face frowned in worry. Helen had gone fearfully pale and was just standing there, tears running down her perfect cheeks watching in silence. She was too pure to have to witness death.

"Love?" he asked softly as he stepped in her line of sight and wiped at her tears with the pads of his soft thumbs.

Helen looked up into his eyes, his dark, brown eyes that were looking down at her with nothing but love and concern. "Oh Paris," she whispered as she leaned into his arms and immediately started to sob. "This is all my fault."

Paris held her tight as she clung to him and rubbed her back soothingly while kissing her hair. "No darling, it is not. You know Agamemnon has desired Troy for years. We knew this war was going to happen eventually."

Helen shook her head and pushed against his chest, her eyes swollen and red as she looked out towards the battle on the beach from over his shoulder. "How can you say that? How can you just accept war?" she asked trying to gasp for breath. She was on borderline hysterics. She did know this was coming, she was not stupid, but she didn't think it was going to happen so quickly.

Paris cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. "Because it is the truth Helen," he said softly yet sternly.

"I want to give myself back," she hastily blurted out, immediately clutching her eyes shut in order to block out the pain that consumed Paris' face.

"W…What?" he asked in disbelief, his hands limply dropping to his sides. He did not ever think he would hear those words leave her mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Helen tried to compose herself. "Menelaus came for me, it's me he wants. I cannot sit here knowing men are dieing because of me. I will go back to him and he will leave Troy. There will be no war." She tried to sound confident but Paris could see right through her. She was petrified.

Paris again took her face in his hands, her small ones coming up to cover his, as he stared deep into her eyes. "Listen to me Helen." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Menelaus would take you back, kill you and then continue on to Troy to kill me. Menelaus is just a pawn in Agamemnon's game. He cares neither for his brother nor you." His words stung her, but she knew he was right.

"I will never be free from him," she sighed shakily. Just the thought of seeing Menelaus' face again brought shivers to her body as it leaned into Paris' warm embrace. "He will burn Troy to the ground to find me, to find us," she said, her voice barley above a whisper.

Paris didn't think he could hold her any tighter to him. "No!" he said firmly, resting his head on top of hers. "Troy will not burn nor will it fall."

Paris pulled her back slightly and gazed into her eyes. "As long as there is breath in my body, I will never allow Menelaus to touch you." He lowered his lips to her quivering ones and captured them in a passionate kiss, crashing her body to his as he deepened their kiss with all the love he possessed.

When the need for air was too great, Helen pulled away and molded herself into Paris' body wishing his embrace would shield her from the world.

As she gazed over Paris' shoulder, Helen's eyes were wide and lifeless as she watched the battle on the beach unfolded. She was glad she could not see clearly what was happening but she knew, she knew people were dying. Trojans and Greeks were dieing because of her and she prayed to the Gods for their forgiveness for what she had done.

Achilla sat at the bow of their ship as it approached the beaches of Troy. The days on end aboard a ship were something she could handle, but the growing feeling in her gut as they got closer and closer to their destination was something she could not. This war was folly to her. She did not want to fight the Trojans, they were good people. Countless men were going to die and for what? For a woman who didn't mean anything more than a jewel to a selfish and proud King? No! This was for domination and sentencing these men to death for another's plunder was not something she wanted to do.

Looking back at the men who were rowing the boat, she flashed them a warm smile as she watched them take her closer to their deaths. These were her people. They would follow her and Achilles across the world, into any battle without question. They were the best in all of Greece and had earned their titles with the cost of their blood. Did they deserve to die in Troy? Certainly not!

Smiling when one solider winked at her, Achilla returned her attention to the sea and tried to ignore her anxious nerves. The sun was just starting to rise; they would be reaching Troy very soon. She was already in her armour, her sword strapped to her back and her shield at her feet ready and waiting to protect her.

Achilla unsheathed her sword, a complete duplicate to Achilles only lighter and narrower for her small size, and ran her finger over the cold metal. Never had she felt such a conflict as she thought of the innocent blood that would soon stain the flawless steal. She was always ready and willing to go to war against those who were a threat to her people or those she loved, they deserved to die in her opinion. But now, this war, she just couldn't seem to find any plausible reasons.

Why couldn't one be satisfied with what they had? She hated Agamemnon for this. Why she hadn't killed him herself was beyond her. If he was dead she wouldn't be here, her cousin of all people wouldn't be here and her brother would be safe at home. She knew what his mother had said awaited him should he fight in Troy. She had been livid and deeply hurt when he chose to still fight despite the warning. If fate thought she was going to allow her brother to die, think again. She would ensure Achilles returned to Phtia even if it meant giving her own life in order to do so.

Achilla didn't care for her brother's obsessive desire to have his name remembered throughout history. A name whispered throughout lands and time as a man who fought in the most historic battle. That didn't matter to her for she felt glory was more than something one earned from fighting a war; but, it mattered to her brother and he mattered to her. That was why she was now here willing and waiting to fight for him: for his glory, his life and his place in history.

Achilles strapped his armour tighter as he yelled for his men to row harder. He would get there first and take the beach and show Agamemnon and Troy who they were, who he was. Yes, this would be the greatest battle and his name was going to be forged into history.

Achilles stopped his inspection of his armour when he caught sight of his sister. He recalled the arguments they had about coming and knew the only reason she sat ready for battle was because of him and their men. He had held her as she cried silent tears when he told her what his mother had said. Whatever possessed him to tell her such a thing still plagued him. He had not expected her to react the way she did. Though something had changed in her since the words left his mouth and they got closer and closer to Troy. He saw something in her eyes that unnerved him. He got the distinct feeling she was planning on sacrificing herself if it meant he would live. He would never forgive himself if such a thing happened. Achilla was young and strong. She could easily survive without him, but he could not without her.

Achilles' thoughts were gratefully disturbed when Eudorus came up and stood next to him, a smile instantly forming on the lieutenant's lips as he gazed at the sight of his warrior Queen. "Should we wait for the others?" he asked his King, his eyes still focused on Achilla.

Achilles turned his head to look at the countless ships that were behind him. The distance between them only confirmed the Myrmidons would arrive first, far before the others, and giving him all the time he needed to achieve his victory.

Achilles lips curled in delight. "They brought us here for war didn't they? Why wait?" he asked as he returned to watch his sister.

"But Agamemnon said…"

Achilles snapped his head to face his lieutenant. "Do you fight for me, Eudorus? Or Agamemnon?" His voice had risen slightly in challenge.

Eudorus looked at Achilles like it was painfully obvious. "For you and for her," he said proudly nodding to Achilla.

Achilles gave him a satisfied nod and smile. "Then fight for me, fight for Achilla. Let the servants of Agamemnon fight for him." He returned his gaze and straightened as the beach was vastly approaching. He could see the warriors readying themselves for his arrival and felt his body tingle with anxious anticipation.

Hearing the sheathing of a sword, Achilles looked back to Patroclus who was also readying himself for battle. He knew the boy was going to hate him for what he was about to do but he couldn't afford the further distraction and neither could Achilla.

He followed Patroclus with his eyes until his cousin was standing next to him, spear and shield in hand. "What are you doing?" he asked as if he had no idea what was going on.

Patroclus looked at Achilles like he had grown an extra head. "Going to fight the Trojans," he replied as if it was most obvious. He didn't like the look on Achilles face and it made his hands start to sweat as they gripped his shield and spear tighter.

Achilles just shook his head 'no' and took the spear that was clutched tightly in Patroclus' hand. "You're not ready," he said gently, yet firmly. Taking the beach and running into open fire of the Trojan arrows would take lives and he didn't want to risk Patroclus'.

Patroclus stood stunned for a moment in disbelief, his face then turning to a look of rage. "I am ready!" he protested. "I have been taught by the best." He pointed to Achilles then Achilla who was now watching them with confusion.

Achilla frowned as she heard her cousin yell and approached him and her brother. "What is going on?" she asked, her eyes darting between the two for an explanation.

Patroclus snapped his head to Achilla. "He won't let me fight," he whined pointing angrily to Achilles.

Achilla looked at Achilles confused. He was the one who argued with her about bring their cousin, the sheltered boy who had never seen battle. Now he was telling Patroclus to stay behind? It would have been better to leave him at home then to let him come with the assumption of participating in battle only then to tell him 'no' at the last moment. She could sympathize with Patroclus' anger.

Achilles gripped the back of his cousin's neck forcing Patroclus to look at him. "You are a good student," he said calmly. "But you are no Myrmidon worrier yet," he replied as he straightened and flashed a look to his sister. It was time for her to take over.

Achilla, reading her brother's look, moved to stand in front of Patroclus. "My dear cousin," she said softly. "You have never fought in battle before; it is very different than our simple sparring matches."

"But—,"

Achilla shook her head, cutting him off and turned him to face the men who were read and waiting for battle. "Look at these soldiers." She waved her hand out over her men. "These are the fiercest and finest soldiers in all of Greece. Each of them has bled for us and us them." She paused and let Patroclus scan the hard faces of their warriors.

Achilla turned back to face Patroclus. "Achilles and I have been fighting since we were children, your time will come but not today," she said firmly. "We cannot take the beach if we are worrying for you cousin." She knew she had gotten through to him as he leaned his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes to control his frustration.

Achilles' heart swelled in pride. The looks on all the men's faces mirrored his as they heard her words. She had easily defused a normally explosive situation with little effort. Achilles had no doubt she could talk her way out of a war if she was given the opportunity to.

Noticing they would reach the beach in a matter of moments, Achilles slapped Patroclus' shoulder. "You will guard the ship," he ordered.

Achilla frowned. He had to open his mouth.

Patroclus snapped his head up and flashed cold, angry eyes at Achilles and flung his shield aside as he angrily stomped off.

Achilla growled in frustration and pocked her finger in her brother's unprotected shoulder. "You had to get the last word in, didn't you?" She continued pocking him as she said each word.

Achilles chuckled with a half shrug and wrapped his arm around his little sister brining her close. "Stay safe sister," he whispered in her ear while secretively rubbing the aching muscle where she had pocked him.

Achilla wrapped her arms around her brother's waist and nodded, instantly forgetting her frustration. "You too brother," she said leaning her head back to rest her chin on his chest and look into his eyes. The glare she gave him told him things she didn't need to say. If he died, she would never forgive him. She would travel all the way down to Hades herself to bring him back so she could in turn kill him for leaving her.

Achilles kept his arms around his sister and turned to watch the Trojan beach. It was almost upon them and the Trojan men were anxiously waiting for him as they continued to form their ranks.

"Myrmidons!" Achilles yelled catching his men's attention and turning to face them with a dry smile. "We are brothers, and sister…," he nodded to Achilla who grinned, "of the sword. I'd rather fight alongside you than any army of thousands." His smile widened as his warriors and sister cheered.

Removing himself from his sister's embrace, Achilles walked to the bow of the ship. "Let no man or woman forget who we are." He narrowed his gaze and clenched his fist, "We are Myrmidons, we are menacing, and we are lions!" His strong voice was lost among the cheers.

Extending his arm out to towards the beach, Achilles continued. "Do you know what's beyond that beach?" He paused and scanned their faces, "Immortality! Take it, it's yours!" he yelled locking eyes with his sister as she stood calm and collected while their men cheered. Both siblings knew what the other was thinking and both knew the other would be there to stop whatever cards fate had dealt them should it mean ones death.

Achilla ignored the last part and pushed her helmet on her head. It was identical to Achilles, less the head decoration, but was pure silver signifying who she was among the men's normal black. She used the reflection it gave off from the sun to blind her enemies, a tactic that had saved her life countless times.

Running her hands over her black armour that moulded perfectly to her body, Achilla looked at Achilles and nodded she was ready. They braced themselves as the boat docked, clashed shields and leapt from the ship.

Achilla landed gracefully, her shield held protectively in front of her as the first rain of arrows descended upon them. She could hear the screams of her men falling behind her and forced all feelings aside as she focused on the task at hand.

As more arrows rained upon them, Achilla crouched down and held her shield in front of her. "Formation!" she ordered as the sounds of arrows thudding in her shield hit her ears.

Within seconds, Achilles was next to her along with all the Myrmidons as they grouped their shields together to form a protective dome from the rain of arrows.

Slowly, they made their way towards the Trojan archers who were desperately trying to find an opening in the alarming black barracked, it opening and closing quickly to allow the Myrmidon archers to fire their own arrows.

When they were close enough to the archers, Achilles looked to Achilla. "Wait for my command to take the archers. I will take the temple," he ordered.

Achilla nodded to her brother and continued up the beach, waiting for her orders to break off.

Moments later, Achilles' order rang out and the solid black barracked broke apart as sister and brother split their men each letting out their own distinctive war cry as they charged.

Achilla had reached the archers before her men. Her sword gleamed in the light as her blade sliced easily into her attackers while her shield captured every arrow that was aimed to kill. Within seconds she had forced the archers to abandon their bows and draw swords.

Thrusting her shield in a man's face, Achilla ducked under his feeble swing for her neck and slashed her sword down his back, the sharp steal cutting through his armour like parchment, while kicking the legs out of another as he attempted to charge her and swinging the sharp curve of her shield around slicing his throat.

Achilla's men soon joined her and as locust, they swarmed the beach; her now stained sword cutting through Trojans like butter. Her speed and skill left no room for the Trojans to get a strike in and were often dead before they could even parry her blows.

Soon, Achilla had taken her end of the beach and immediately scanned around pleased to see the majority of her men were still standing.

Achilla then turned her gaze to the temple when her brother's name began to echo over the water as it was chanted by the Greeks still at sea. She could see her brother standing at the entrance no doubt soaking in the scene before him with Eudorus standing proudly behind him.

Achilla then watched with a disapproving frown as her brother sliced the head off Apollo's statue; no doubt he was mocking Eudorus. She and Achilles had little to no faith in the Gods, but their men did. Where Achilles challenged the Gods, like he did to anyone who dared to tell him what to do, she remained impartial and respected others beliefs in them. Quite often the faith that her men and other's had in the Gods was the only thing that kept them going, perhaps even saving their lives.

Achilla's attention turned to her men as they surrounded her. "Shall we pursue my lady?" A soldier gasped trying to catch his breath while pointing his sword to a few retreating Trojans.

Achilla shook her head and clapped the man on the back. "No. Regain your energy for them," she said nodding her head in the direction where a cloud of dust formed behind a large army of horsemen galloping towards them.

Achilla sighed, of course more would come, and ran closer to where her brother was. When they locked eyes, she raised her sword and pointed to the approaching Trojans, they were not finished yet.

Hector caught sight of the beach and gasp in horror. Hundreds of Trojan men lined the beaches, their blood soaking in the sand as they lay breathless.

Hector urged his mount to go faster when he caught sight of the army waiting for them, their all black armour signifying who they were: Myrmidons. He found his eyes squinting as they were drawn to a smaller figure with a shinny helmet standing in lead among them. He could see the other Greek ships had not yet landed and he was stunned the Myrmidon army had taken the beach alone.

Achilles watched as the horsemen approached. Glancing down at the spear at his feet he looked to his sister as she held her men in line. He grinned, kicked up the spear and hurled it into a man to the left of the obvious leader. He nodded mockingly at the shocked look on the Trojan leaders face and turned to his sister grinning.

Achilla rolled her eyes and held out her hand, "Spear if you please." A soldier placed a spear in her hand and all watched as she leapt and hurled the spear with as much force as Achilles. The man to the right of the leader fell off his horse with a cry that rendered the army speechless as they all turned and looked at her. Achilla turned to her brother and bowed her head mockingly.

Hector could not believe what he had just witnessed. No person could throw a spear at that range. Yet here were two who had just proven him wrong. He instantly knew who the two were.

Shaking his head to push away the worry, Hector looked to his men behind him and nodded to a general. "Take half the men and engage them," he pointed to where Achilla and her men stood waiting.

The man nodded and let out an order as half the horsemen broke off from Hector while he led the rest to take the temple.

Achilles continued to watch the army approach, half breaking off and already engaging his sister. He could see the leader clearly; it had to be Hector and heading straight for him. He smirked as the legend of Troy took his own spear and hurled it at him. Keeping eye contact with the Trojan, he tilted his head to the side lazily as the spear soared past him. He gave Hector a satisfied smile before turning and walking slowly into the temple.

Achilles grinned as his men disappeared behind pillars and tables, waiting to ambush the Trojans. "Be ready men. They are here," he said quietly and continued his walk to the altar.

"Spearmen, Archers!" Achilla barked as the horsemen galloped towards them. It was defiantly an advantage the Trojans had being on horses, but Achilla knew how to handle the situation.

A group of men all stood in front of Achilla and held out long spears while archers lined and fired from behind them. Should the horsemen be stupid enough to charge her, they would risk killing their horses or being throne; therefore, they would be forced to dismount and engage them on foot. Achilla hated this approach, she liked horses, but the action was necessary.

As Achilla's archers fired arrows, some of the horsemen urged their mounts to charge her spears. Scowling in rage over the disrespect for their steeds, Achilla felt a wave of relief when the horses were smart enough to realize the danger and reared throwing their riders to the ground.

Since most of the Trojans were now dismounting, Achilla raised her sword in the air for her line of men to attack and led the charge, her cry of war filling the air.

_Review if you please. ___


	4. Chapter 4

_My usual thanks to all my wonderful __reviewers:__ CarolineJuliette, james-louise, EmeraldSeaFrost, Maddsy, and Fair Maiden. _

_Now, I hope you like this chapter. I am not too sure how pleased I am with it so let me know what you think._

Achilla watched as the riders began to retreat, a sad realization hitting her as she looked down at her blood stained sword clutched tightly in her hand. These men lived lives of peace and had clearly fought in fewer battles than she. They had fought wars yes, but never like she had. They were skilled, she gave them that, but they were nothing she and her men couldn't handle.

Letting out a long sigh, Achilla sheathed her sword and spun around taking another inventory of her men who were all walking towards her, albeit some barely. Her heart dropped as she noticed a few more had fallen but the over all loss was better than she could have expected considering the advantage the Trojans had.

Giving out orders to treat the wounded and retrieve any who had fallen, she herself went to search the battlefield for survivors.

As she scanned the dead at her feet, regret and guilt washed over her as she saw bodies of a few of her men lying lifeless among the Trojans. None of them deserved this, her men or the Trojans.

Achilla continued to walk thru the bodies when she stumbled upon a Trojan staring up at the sky clearly in pain, his armour plate covered in blood.

Achilla stood over the man, her small body casting a shadow over him as she looked down into his pain filled green eyes. He was young, perhaps only a few years older than her. She couldn't tell what shade of blond his hair was since it was matted with sand and blood. Moving her gaze lower, she frowned when she noticed the blood on his breast plate was coming from him and would no doubt kill him if the bleeding wasn't stopped.

Removing her helmet and ignoring the questioning looks from her men, Achilla crouched down and placed a reassuring hand on the Trojan's shoulder when he instinctively moved to shuffle away from her, only to accomplish a grown of pain. "Shhh," she soothed softly. "Do not worry, I am here to help."

The man just blinked and gave her a look of pure disbelief. Was he dreaming? Surely not, nor was he dead since his body was consumed with pain. Perhaps Aphrodite herself was here to heal him. But why was she covered in blood? Whoever this creature was before him, she was not Trojan and was unlike any beauty he had ever set eyes on.

Achilla felt his roaming, confused gaze. She couldn't blame the man for doubting her. Who would believe that his enemy, who had just cut him down, was offering help? It was almost comical to think such a thing.

Giving him a reassuring smile, Achilla cupped his dirty cheek. "What is your name Trojan?" she asked, her thumb rubbing gentle circles on his soft flesh hoping he would trust her.

The young man visibly gawked at the woman before him when the realization hit him. He had heard of the Myrmidon Queen and could hardly believe she was here before him, for it surely had to be her.

He lay there a moment and searched her intensely blue eyes. Her head was blocking the sun and he was able to get a clear view of the bluest of blue eyes he had ever seen. What really shocked him was the truth he found in those blue eyes as they looked down at him with honesty and genuine concern. She really was going to help him.

"Lucian," he finally gasped out while trying to will the pain away.

Achilla nodded with a smile and ran her fingers thru his hair soothingly. "I am going to look at your wound but first I must remove your armour, all right?" she asked not wanting to startle him.

Lucian was starting to realize the irony of the situation and frowned. "Why not leave me here to die?" he asked hoarsely, wincing as he took a deep breath.

Achilla just sighed expecting such a reaction and started to remove the man's armour despite the scrutinizing gaze he was attempting to give her.

"My lady what are you doing?" One of her men demeaned from behind her. She could just imagine what they were thinking.

Achilla turned and looked up at the man, a few men flanking him. "What does it look like I am doing?" she asked as if he were daft.

The warroir frowned and crossed his arm over his chest defiantly, his silence speaking for him. They had their own men that needed tending and here she was helping a Trojan.

Achilla read his body language and gave him a cold look in return. "Go back to camp, ensure the wounded are tended and pyres are built for the dead," her voice was firm and commanding. Her equally firm glare told them not to question her as turned back to Lucian knowing they would obey.

Smiling reassuringly, Achilla continued to remove Lucian's armour. "Because Trojan, despite what you may think, not all Greeks are heartless," she said dryly in answer to his earlier question. As she removed his armour and rolled up his tunic, she took in a sharp breath as she eyed the nasty gash that ran across his chest. It was rather deep, not life threatening, but she had been right in her assumption that if it was not stitched soon he would bleed to death.

Lucian looked at her confused. "Really? In light of the present circumstances and the situation I find myslef in, forgive me for disagreeing with you," he said mockingly. "Why not just avoid this war all together and save yourself the trouble," he spat nodding his head down to his wound.

Achilla ripped the man's tunic angrily. "Perhaps you shouldn't question a kind gesture or I will leave you here to bleed to death. Or perhaps you wish me to leave you for the other Greek soldiers, I am sure they would like a pet," she hissed as she forced him to sit up and started to wrap the ripped shreds of tunic around his body, his very well toned body she noted.

Achilla's lips curled as a giggle escaped when Lucian pouted in defeat and began to mutter inaudibly low while lifting his arms up slightly so she could continue her ministrations. She loved that look of defeat.

Standing up when she was satisfied Lucian would hold out until he reached the walls of Troy, Achilla looked around for a stray horse. After spotting one a few paces away, Achilla looked down and extended her arm to help Lucian up. "You will live to fight another day Trojan," she said with a sigh waiting for him to take her arm.

Groaning when he just continued to sit there, Achilla shook her arm. "Do I need to remind you Trojan that if you do not leave this instant the Greek soldiers who have now landed will find you and all my work will have been wasted," she said giving him a stern look and shaking her arm again.

Lucian's eyes widened in realization and quickly grabbed her arm allowing her to pull him up with alarming strength.

Wrapping Lucian's arm around her shoulder and her arm around his waist, Achilla nodded to the stray horse that still stood grazing a few paces away and chuckled as he groaned. "I know it will be painful, but you will be able to return before you bleed out," she said helping him to the horse.

Lucian let out another groan and allowed Achilla to help him over to the horse, trying his hardest not to lean on the smaller woman but failing miserably.

After Achilla helped Lucian mount, she tied him to the saddle to ensure that if he should pass out from blood loss, he wouldn't fall.

"Get well Trojan and tell your King I am sorry," Achilla said softly as she ensured one last time that he was indeed tied securely before stepping away.

Lucian looked down at her, a mixture of confusion and bewilderment written all over his face. "Sorry about what exactly?" he asked trying to understand her.

Achilla ran her hands affectionately over the horse's soft brown neck, marvelling at its beauty. "I am sorry we have littered this beautiful land with the deaths of his people," her tone was sincere and pained as she turned to look up at Lucian. "I will honour your people by helping them travel to the Underworld with proper burials," she promised with a small smile.

Lucian could not believe what he was hearing. He sat stunned, the pain momentarily forgotten as he tried to process the young beauty before him. After a few moments of silence, Lucian extended his arm for her to shake. "Allow me the honour of shaking the hand of a true warrior and the most honourable woman I have ever met," he said truthfully.

Achilla smiled and clasped his outstretched arm, pale green eyes staring into sparkling blue ones as an instant friendship was forged.

"Perhaps when this is all over Trojan, I can teach you how to wield a sword properly so that next time you won't find yourself in this situation," Achilla teased releasing his arm and nodding to the bandaged that was starting to turn a dark crimson from the blood it was soaking up.

Lucian winced as he laughed.

"Ride safely Trojan," Achilla said in parting, tilting her head in the direction to Troy indicating it was time to leave.

Lucian nodded and clutched the rains about to do just that, but hesitated. "Milady, you have not honoured me with your name?" he realized looking down at Achilla. No one was going to believe what he just experienced but he had to know for sure she was who he thought she was.

Achilla smiled and bowed her head. "I am Queen Achilla of the Myrmidons," she said proudly her smile reaching her eyes as Lucian's jaw dropped and his eyes bulged.

Lucian knew it was her but for some reason hearing her say it made it all the more real. One of the most feared warriors, supposedly his enemy, had just saved his life. Certainly not something that happens everyday.

Looking back and seeing as Greeks were in fact landing on the beach, some making their way up to where she stood, Achilla smacked the horse on its romp sending Lucian away before he could utter another word. Somehow knowing she saved his life brought a bit of peace to her heart; if she could help just one, than it was worth it.

Heaving a sigh once Lucian was out of sight, Achilla made her way to the temple to see what destruction her brother had caused.

Achilles stood on the stone steps outside the temple and smirked at the Trojan prince who was clearly eyeing him like he had gone mad.

"Why do you not fight me?" Hector half-yelled as he held his sword out defensively. Achilles was toying with him, baiting him and his patience was running thin. He could hardly believe Achilles was here only to have his name remember throughout history. It was almost sickening to believe that this man thought that reason enough to take lives.

Looking past the Prince and ignoring his question, Achilles saw some of his and Achilla's men immerge from the doorway and onto the stone terrace.

"The Trojan's are dead," Eudorus informed his King before focusing in on Hector and flashing Achilles a confused look.

Ignoring Eudorus, Achilles scanned the group a slight pang of fear taking over him when he did not see his sister. "Where is Achilla?" he demanded to no one in particular.

Hector was beyond irritated now. Achilles was openly ignoring him; however, at the mention of the Myrmidon Queen, he couldn't contain his curiosity. Her name and reputation were as infamous as her brother's and although he hated to admit it, he wanted to see her.

As if on cue, they all heard the roar of said woman.

"WHO KILLED THESE MEN?" Achilla's voice bellowed, echoing thru the stone corridors as it reached the ears of the men who stood on the terrace.

Hector watched as Achilles winced and his eyebrows rose in slight amusement. Certainly Achilles was not afraid of his sister?

Achilles walked up to stand next to Hector and leaned towards him slightly. "Time to meet the woman among woman," he said lowly.

Hector looked at Achilles oddly and was about to say something when the sound of footsteps immerging on the terrace silenced him. Turning to face her fully, all air from Hector's lungs left his body as his gaze locked onto the most breathtaking woman.

Achilla ignored the presence of the Trojan man and glared at her brother, arms crossed over her chest, eyes blazing. "Answer me brother," she snarled.

Achilles scrunched his face in confusion and took a step towards Achilla, hiding his relief to see her well and unharmed. "And to what question do I owe an answer to sister?" he asked calmly.

Hector couldn't take his eyes of the young woman who despite the blood and dirt that covered her body, stood in all her glory before him. She stood tall, despite her smaller size, and confident. Her blond hair was unruly, layered with grim and sand as it blew around her while stunning blue eyes glared hard at her brother. Her armour intrigued him. She wore a full black breastplate much like Achilles and the other Myrmidons, but it had been uniquely shaped to fit a woman's body. It certainly did not hide the woman she was as it moulded to her as if another layer of skin. She wore a short, leather black wrap with leather boots coming mid-calf, thus giving him a perfect view of her muscles flexing as she shifted her weight. She was unlike any warrior woman he had ever seen.

Achilla uncrossed her arms and pointed to the doorway. "Did you not step over the bodies of the priests and priestesses that are blanketing the stone floor?" she yelled taking a step towards her brother, pointing her finger in his face. "They did not need to die, Achilles. They were unarmed, innocent and certainly no threat," she hissed.

The silence from her brother was enough for Achilla and spun around to face their men, all of which took an unconscious step back at the rage that was evident on her face. "You have disgraced us!" she snarled smacking Achilles hand off her shoulder as he made an attempt to calm her.

"Myrmidons' are not mercenaries. We are warriors and you have brought dishonour to us by your actions," she yelled narrowing her piercing blue eyes at them all.

When no one attempted to account for their actions, Achilla shifted her weight to lean on one leg and pointed a dirty finger in their direction. "You…" she said in a low, icy tone, her eyes roaming over each warrior, "will give them proper burials along with the other Trojans on the beach. You will build their pyres and use your own gold to send them across to the Underworld. Am I understood?" she asked firmly, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow daring anyone to challenge her.

If Hector had not heard the words come from her mouth, he wouldn't have believed it. The Myrmidons' heads were all hung as if they were scolded children, all nodding submissively and leaving to do as their Queen bid.

Achilles sighed and ran his hand thru his hair, she was right. Thinking for a moment he turned to Hector and noticed the look on the Prince's face as he stood staring at Achilla. He did not like that look. "Go home Prince," he snarled snapping Hector back to reality.

At the mention of the Prince, Achilla spun around to acknowledge the man's presence. He was Hector and by the Gods the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. He was tall and strong, like Achilles. He didn't have an arrogant air about him, but one of nobility and honour. His unshaven face seemed to enhance his strong features while his brown curly hair that was blowing wildly around his face did nothing to hide a set of intensely dark eyes. She felt as if those dark brown eyes were piercing her very sole as they stared right back at her.

Hector met Achilla's eyes and for a moment, neither he nor the Myrmidon Queen could move or break the eye contact.

Achilles looked between the two, his frown instantly deepening into a scowl and cleared his throat to break the heated gaze between the two. He had seen far too many men look at her like that, many of which met the tip of his sword for uttering such a look. She was his baby sister and deathly beautiful. He hated knowing what was going on in men's heads as they looked upon her. He especially hated how it seemed his sister was returning the Prince's stare.

Achilla shook her head back to reality and walked towards Hector. "Prince of Troy," she said formally bowing her head slightly.

Hector had to fight to form words. "Queen of Pthia," he replied also bowing his head after taking a moment to find his voice.

"I won't say it again Prince," Achilles growled stepping next to a smiling Achilla. "Go home...drink your wine, make love to your wife." Achilla saw a flash of pain in Hector's eyes at the later statement and wondered what pain he suffered from. "Tomorrow we shall have our war," Achilles finished and nodded for Hector to leave.

At the mention of Andromache, Hector felt as if he had received a blow to his gut as he was reminded he did not have a wife to go home to.

Looking at Achilles directly, Hector made a final attempt to reason with the King. "You speak of war like it's a game. But how many wives wait at Troy's gate for husbands they will never see again? How many Greeks will never see their families or homes again?" he asked his eyes boring into them as he said each word.

Achilla thought of the man she had saved and only hopped that he had a wife to return to; she at least would be safe from such grief. Unfortunately though, Hector's words were wasted since there was nothing either her or Achilles could do to stop the war. Although that didn't stop the gut wrenching pain knowing that what he said was true.

"Perhaps your brother can comfort them," Achilles said smoothly. "I hear he's good at charming other men's wives," his facial expression as mocking as his tone.

Achilla just watched Hector's eyes flash with emotion. So the Prince was aware of what his brother's foolish actions had caused. Frankly, if Paris was her brother she would have throttled him and sent Helen back to her poor excuse of a husband. She did feel for the life Helen was forced to live, but no woman had it easy. Helen should try living her life for a change. Perhaps then she wouldn't have acted so hastily.

Achilla blinked away her irrelevant thoughts as she again focused on Hector. He was good at keeping his face void, but his amazing brown eyes gave away the emotions he was feeling. "Enough," she shot over her shoulder to her brother. He was playing and she was tired and wanted a bath; the sun had dried the blood that covered her skin and it was itchy.

Stepping forward so she was now inches from Hector's handsome face, Achilla smiled warmly and tilted her head slightly to look Hector in the eye. "I do believe it is best for you to leave now Prince of Troy," she said softly giving him a sympathetic look and pleading with her eyes for him to leave before Agamemnon's men caught him.

Hector looked at Achilla and tried not to marvel at the way her blue eyes seemed to flicker with each change of emotion. "And how do I know I won't be killed on my way out?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Achilla ignored the rolling of Achilles eyes and extended her arm to the entrance back into the temple. "I will walk with you to your horse and give you my word no harm will come to you," she said truthfully as she held Hector's gaze so he could see she was being sincere.

Hector did study her eyes as she spoke and barley heard what she had said. She was so young, too young. She looked to be only a few years older than his youngest sister and he couldn't imagine what had happened in her life to lead her here. It was not surprising to see a Queen so young, but it was surprising for one to be a worrier

Casting a look of complete contempt to Achilles, Hector nodded to Achilla. "I trust you," his honesty surprising even him. He did trust her and what made it all the more odd was that he didn't feel bad about it.

Achilles returned the Prince's gaze. "I warn you Prince…Do not think for a second to take advantage of her word." The intensity of his glare left no need for more words to be said. Should Hector try anything, only certain death awaited him.

Achilla just rolled her eyes as her brother and Hector stared daggers at each other. Men! She thought to herself. She had had more than enough of them. "As much fun as this is, I do believe you should be on your way Prince of Troy for I do not wish to stand around and watch the two of you compete to see who the bigger mule is." It was impossible for Achilla to hide the her grin as both Hector and Achilles redirected their heated stares towards her.

Achilles blinked at Achilla then shook his head in amusement and returned his gaze to Hector. "Well, until our war tomorrow Prince." And with those parting words, Achilles turned his back to Hector and walked to the edge of the terrace to watch his men below.

Hector watched Achilles for a brief moment before he walked past Achilla into the temple. Prince and Queen walked in silence as they made their way through the temple that was still being cleared of the innocent bodies that littered the cold, stone floor.

True to her word, Achilla sent glares of death to any who even took a step towards Hector as they walked down the stone steps and made their way to his ever loyal horse that stood a ways off waiting for its master.

"Your men hold you in high regard," Hector said nonchalantly as he and Achilla approached his horse. He had noticed the nods she received from her men as they passed them. Each man had nothing but loyalty and respect in their eyes as they gazed upon her. Something he couldn't help but find admirable.

Achilla was able to hide the momentary urge to jump in surprise at hearing Hector's voice since she had not expected him to address her. She had though been watching him out of the corner of her eyes. "And I them," she said, her tone full of pride.

Hector and Achilla reached his massive white stallion, the animal nudging his master affectionately as it whined in pleasure at seeing him.

The silence was awkward between the two worriers as they stood staring at one another, both battling with the emotions that were instantly felt when they looked at the other. They were emotions enemies should not be feeling and yet, they couldn't be denied nor ignored.

Clearing her throat, Achilla broke eye contact and looked over the beach that was now littered with Greek soldiers. "I know words mean nothing, but I want to apologize for the unnecessary deaths of your priests and priestess along with those who fought bravely to defend their land," she said lamely turning back to face Hector. "I have killed men in many countries, but never would I order the deaths of innocent men and woman, let alone a priest or priestess." She finished her eyes conveying the sincerity of her words. She had the overwhelming desire for this man to know her men were not bad people. That she was not.

Hector could only nod. She was right, there were no words she could say to make it better, but the fact that she wanted to and did with nothing but honesty and sincerity was something in itself.

Remembering that she _was _his enemy, Hector mounted his stallion with ease and grace, gathering the reigns in an iron like grip hopping to crush the unwelcome sensation of saddens knowing he was leaving her and would perhaps never see her again unless it was on the battlefield. "Until we meet again Queen Achilla," he said in a voice void of emotion while tilting his head down to her.

Achilla saw Hector's eyes darken as he mounted his horse and felt herself miss the warmth in them since they now looked down at her emotionless. "Ride safely Prince Hector," she replied in parting also tilting her head.

Capturing her eyes one last time, Hector kicked his heals into his horses flanks, controlling the beast effortlessly as it lunged forward and gallop back to Troy.

_Okie dokie, now this is the point where you review._


	5. Chapter 5

_Okay, I am at a loss here. I tried to find out what the leather wrap Achilles wears in battle is called but __I came up with nothing. I don't know if I looked hard enough, but I gave up. I know the Trojan's and Greeks normally wore tunics, so that I got. Anyway, when I refer to Achilles and Achilla's 'wrap' it is the same as what is worn in the move by BP. I don't want to call it a skirt, because it's not, and it's not a kilt. So, 'wrap' it is. Sorry if that bugs any of you. If anyone knows what it is called, please tell me!_

_Anyway, THANK YOU to my reviewers: __CarolineJuliette, james-louise, Maddsy, and Fair Maiden. _

Achilla returned to the temple and to her brother's side, Eudorus standing slightly behind him, and looked over the Greek armies who were unloading their ships and organizing their camps. She could see Patroclus and various other Myrmidons setting up their own camp, thankfully a distance away from the other camps.

Achilla shot a glance to her brother out of the corner of her eye who had yet to acknowledge her presence. She didn't need to ask Achilles why he didn't kill Hector; he wanted it to be a public display. Knowing that only infuriated her already foul mood.

Eudorus himself had also been wondering why Achilles didn't just kill the man. Achilles had been staring out at the beach since Achilla and Hector had left and had not acknowledged Eudorus when he approached either.

Finally unable to take the nagging in his head any longer, Eudorus stepped forward. "Why did you let him go?" he asked knowing Achilles would know who he was referring to.

Achilles looked at his sister then to the sword he still had clutched in his hand. "It's too early in the day for killing Princes," he said in almost a whisper. He had wanted to kill the Prince but for some reason the moment he looked into the man's eyes, it was as if a force had stopped him. He found he didn't really want to kill the man, almost as if he was too important to rid the world of.

Achilla smiled to herself at her brother's reply, perhaps she had been wrong. There was something about Hector that struck a chord with her brother, she had felt it too. Hector seemed too important to kill. There was an air of greatness surrounding him, a life not worth ending. It was clear that Hector was indeed as honourable as his reputation proceeded and Achilla just hopped that perhaps her brother was having second thoughts.

Achilla walked farther over to the edge of the terrace to get a clearer view of the beach. "Such a waste of life for one man's selfish gains," she said more to herself then to Achilles and Eudorus who were standing behind her.

Without replying, Achilles wrapped his arm around his sister and continued to watch the Greek ships being unloaded, men scurrying about doing whatever jobs they were ordered to do.

Feeling as if they were being watched, said Greeks all looked up and saw their legends watching them and began to chant their names over and over. The cheers and shouts brought smiles to Achilla and Achilles faces as they heard their names dance in the air.

Achilla, Achilles, and Eudorus, who had noticed the lateness of the hour by the setting sun, left the temple and began making their way through the Greek camps heading for their own.

Hearing Achilles name being called, brother and sister stopped and turned to see Ajex running up to them, his large arm waving for them to stop.

Achilla couldn't help but smile. That man would cause warriors to drop dead just in fear of seeing his large, burly form charging for them she thought to herself.

Reaching the two, Ajax bowed his head. "You are both as fearless as a God," he praised as he returned to his full height.

Achilla and Achilles however took no honour in being compared to the Gods. "Ajax my friend, the Gods have no fear. They are immortal and therefore cannot be killed or defeated. If they could, do you think I would be here?" Achilles asked causing Achilla to chuckle.

Ajax chuckled as well. "Well, I am honoured to go to war with you," he said proudly then nodded to Achilla, "Both of you." It had taken him quite some time to accept the warrior Queen; however, after seeing her defeat countless battles single-handedly, the amount of respect he had for her was endless.

Achilla's smile reached her eyes as she patted the giant's equally giant arm. "Well then, as are we. For we certainly have nothing to fear with you by our sides," she replied sincerely. She had never gotten along with the large man, but it instantly lifted her spirits knowing he felt honoured to fight next to her.

Achilles nodded in agreement and caught his sister when Ajax's large hand patted her on her back and sent her sprawling forward by the unexpected force.

Ajax just shrugged as Achilla shot him a questioning look as she straightened herself. "Sorry, I seem to forget my strength at times," he apologized in farewell and hurried off to his own camp.

Achilles just laughed. "Somehow I find that hard to believe," he said grinning down at his sister who nodded while laughing.

Achilla and Achilles had just turned to continue to their camp, when they caught sight of Odysseus walking towards them.

"If you were any slower, the war would have been over," Achilles called out as the only King they respected approached the siblings.

Odysseus kissed Achilla on both cheeks and grinned back at Achilles. "Are you complaining as to my absence Achilles? Were you in such desperate need of me?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

Achilles just grinned and shook his head.

Odysseus wrapped his arm around Achilla's shoulders and gave it a shake. "Besides, I don't mind missing the start of the war as long as I'm here at the end."

Achilla sighed. "There shouldn't even be a war," she replied lowly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Achilles just rolled his eyes and waved his sister off. He was not in the mood for her rant and continued towards the camp, leaving his sister to Odysseus.

Odysseus nodded in parting to Achilles and looked down to Achilla. "Walk with me?" he asked stretching his arm down towards the beach.

Achilla nodded and followed Odysseus' lead.

"I watched you fight; you made it up the beach before any of your men did," he said in praise, breaking the comfortable silence. "I don't think you will ever cease to amaze me," his voice was soft and low hopping to redirect the conversation he knew was about to happen.

Achilla of course didn't fall for it and shrugged his arm off. "It matters not to me Odysseus," she sighed. She knew she was born with a sword in her hand, her Amazon and Myrmidon blood was a deadly mix, but that didn't mean it was the only thing to live by.

Stopping in her tracks, Achilla turned to look at Odysseus. "I do not want to fight this war Odysseus," she said angrily. After meeting Lucian and Hector, she was even more convinced that this war was all wrong and that Troy did not deserve to have its land covered in its own blood.

"This war…" she pointed to the Greeks scattered on the beach, "is pointless. The Trojans are good people, this land screams honourable and yet here we are, killing men who defend their homes." She tried to rein in her anger and turned to look out over the sea, Odysseus standing silently beside her.

"My men should not have died today; this is not a war they should have to fight in," her voice was soft and full of sorrow as she continued to watch the vast blue ocean. The rays of the setting sun were making the small ripples in the water shine.

Odysseus ran his hand down the back of his neck. He may have won the battle to get Achilla here, he had dangled her family in her face, but now he wasn't so sure he could win the war with her as he listened to her. He knew she hated fighting for Agamemnon, it was painfully obvious; he also knew she would be the first into battle if she believed in it. But he had never seen her act like this before and he had the aching feeling it was not going to bode well for him.

Before the King could reply, Patroclus approached. "Cousin," he greeted eagerly, embracing her while nodding to Odysseus.

Pulling away, but keeping his arm around her shoulders, Patroclus looked over Achilla's tired, dirty face with concern. "You look exhausted cousin. Come and rest," he said pointing in the direction of their camp.

Ever thankful for her cousin, Achilla nodded farewell to Odysseus and wrapped her arm around Patroclus' waist letting him lead her in the direction of their camp.

"Are you angry with me cousin?" she asked as they walked in silence.

Patroclus pulled Achilla to his chest and kissed her forehead while letting out a sigh. "In a way, but I understand why," he said wisely.

Achilla looked up at him not bothering to hide the shock on her face; normally he would pout and sulk. "Do you really?" she asked still in awe at the words that he had spoken.

Patroclus stopped and looked down at her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I do, but you cannot protect me forever, Achilla. I will fight in this war and I will earn my honour," he said sternly.

Achilla sighed, too tired to argue and nodded, snuggling into his chest as he led her to their camp.

Achilles entered his hut and cocked his head to the side as he looked over the dirty priestess tied to the centre support post of his hut glaring at him with such hate that the intensity of her hazel eyes surprised him. He felt an overwhelming desire to touch her for no woman ever looked him in the eye with such defiance, Achilla of course being the only exception. He liked it.

"The men found her hiding in the temple and thought she would amuse you," Eudorus informed him as he entered behind Achilles but quickly left when his King showed no intention of acknowledging him.

Achilles' interest in the girl intensified when her eyes darkened to an almost frightening black as the words left Eudorus' mouth and bravely continued to glare down at him, her chin tiling upwards. He knew that look.

Achilles held the woman's eyes as he moved to the wash basin while removing the various armour he wore to protect his body. To say he was surprised when her eyes didn't stray from his as he removed his leather wrap and stood before her naked, would be an understatement.

Splashing water over his body and enjoying tormenting the virgin priestess, Achilles finally grew tired of the silence. "What is your name priestess?" he asked, water dripping down his face as he cocked his head to the side to look at her while leaning over his wash basin.

Briseis' eyes widened as her body reacted to his nakedness and snapped her head to stare at the opposite end of the hut; never in her life had she felt so hot. Her body flared with rage and desire as she forced herself not to look at the naked man before her. She knew what happened to captive women, but the fact that this man was so breathtaking and her body instantly reacting to him disgusted her. She was a priestess of Apollo, she was not to be thinking let alone seeing such things. This man knew that and was taunting her.

Achilles sighed in frustration and ran his hand down his face. "What is your name?" he asked a little more forcefully.

Briseis bit her lip to quell her fear at the man's tone and continued to stare at the wall determined to remain defiant. She would not give him the pleasure of breaking her.

Achilles pushed himself away from the wash basin, grabbed a fresh, black sarong and wrapped it around his waist as he approached the priestess.

Crouching in front of her, he curled his lips slightly when she gazed at his exposed chest and quickly turned her head away from him. She did not blush, but she was biting the bottom corner of her lip and he found that intriguing.

Briseis shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Would he not stop staring? The man was baiting her but she was determined to hold her ground.

Achilles really liked this one. She was strong and had spirit, that much he gathered instantly. Not many women could stare him down with such defiance; though he gathered the little priestess would be defiant until the day she left to the Underworld.

Leaning over her, Achilles untied the rope that bound her to the support post and took in her smell. She smelled like jasmine. Only wealthy woman smelled like jasmine; she must be royalty. Well that certainly explained her defiance he concluded. Only the wealthy ones had such a snobbish air about them, looking down at men as if they were nothing better than a flea. He found this only more intriguing.

Briseis eye's widened as she sucked in a gasp of air when the man leaned over her. She couldn't help but watch as his muscles flexed when he shifted his weight so he could reach behind her. Her eyes started to roam over his chest and took in his scent. The metal tang of blood filled her nostrils and instantly reminded her that this man was not to be marvelled at. He was a killer and that was all.

"You are royalty," he stated dryly as he pulled away and met the same intense stare as the woman rubbed her wrists.

Briseis was unable to hide the shock. How had he known? But her mind was unable to dwell on her revealed identity for once her hands were free she couldn't help but feel relieved. Being tied like that was the most uncomfortable position.

Looking at her raw hands, Achilles moved to inspect them to see if she was wounded.

Briseis saw his hands approaching her and instantly without thought, her hand shot out and smacked Achilles across the face.

Captor and captive both sat there staring at each other in shock and disbelief. Never had Achilles been hit, if you could even call her pathetic excuse for a slap a 'hit', by a woman other than his sister. The fact that she had hit him was what surprised him. He didn't dwell on the fact that she hit him, but that she was brave enough to.

While Achilles found the situation utterly amusing, never had Briseis felt so scared in her life. She could not believe her boldness; this man had made no intentions of harming her but now she was sure he was going to end her life for striking him. The small grin that was growing on his handsome face did nothing to squash her fear but only intensified it.

As she entered the Myrmidon the camp, Achilla smiled warmly at the sight of her men who were all lounging lazily, eating and drinking in merriment. The pryes had all been built and would be ready for burning by nightfall.

Smiling proudly, Achilla removed herself from under Patroclus' arm and walked to the large fire majority of her men were sitting around. "You did well today men," she praised looking at each of them, her hand resting on Eudorus' shoulder.

All the men nodded happily to their Queen, her complement washing away the guilt they felt for displeasing her for what had happened in the temple.

Looking around, she was confused as to why her brother was not out talking to his men. "Where is Achilles?" she asked looking down at Eudorus.

Judging by the uneasy look on Eudorus' face, she knew he was hiding something and he knew she was not going to like.

Leaning over, Achilla cupped his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. "Eudorus, what are you hiding from me?" she asked in a sweetly low tone. It was those tones that one feared most.

Eudorus swallowed. "We found a priestess trying to escape." He winced when he saw her face frown. "We thought she could amuse Achilles," he answered sheepishly. He hated it when she looked at him like that.

Achilla growled and slightly shoved Eudorus' chin away before stomping off to Achilles tent. She knew her brother would never force himself on a woman; the problem was he never had to. The priestess would no doubt be a virgin and she could only imagine what fun Achilles was having at her expense. Not only that, but she did not generally agree with prisoners of war, especially woman. This woman would be of no use to them and would therefore be sent back to her family immediately.

Not bothering to announce herself, Achilla stormed into Achilles tent, her eyes instantly widening at what she saw. Cowering on the floor trying to hide the fear overtaking her body was a lovely woman, not much older than herself, and her brother crouching in front of her with an amused look on his face.

Achilles grumbled something under his breath at the intrusion and turned to see the blazing eyes of his sister. "Yes?" he asked not bothering to hid the irritation in his voice for being disturbed.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, wincing slightly when she saw the woman jump. Her eyes, however, narrowed in at the slight pink hue that covered her brother's right cheek. Something had happened here she pondered to herself.

Achilles let out a frustrated sigh and stood, facing his sister. "She was brought to me by the men," he defended as if it was a perfectly good explanation for holding the girl captive.

Achilla quickly closed the short distance between her and her brother and glared up at him before crouching down in front of the woman, her face immediately softening.

Both women stared at each other for a moment. Queen with sympathy and priestess with shock at the kindness she saw in the woman's eyes, not to mention she was a warrior and covered in blood.

Achilla took in a deep breath, her face immediately scowling in frustration. "You are Royalty." It wasn't a question but a statement. It was easy to figure out. The woman was finely groomed, you could smell her expensive fragrance and the way she held her head high was enough conviction. If Agamemnon found out about her or worse who she was there would not be much she or Achilles could do for her.

The flash of surprise on the woman's face only confirmed it.

Sighing deeply, Achilla leaned back on her knees. "What is your name?" she asked softly.

"She won't speak, I already asked," Achilles said quickly from behind her.

Achilla looked over her shoulder. "Well do you blame her," she said with amusement. "I could only imagine what you were doing before I got her. I must say though, judging by the lovely shade of red marking your face, it seems she is more than capable of handling you," she teased nodding to his slightly red cheek where it was evident that the woman had slapped him.

Achilla chuckled when Achilles just rolled his eyes and turned back around giving the woman a wink. She was beyond impressed that the priestess had been bold and courageous enough to stand up to her brother. She just wondered what had occurred to warrant such an action, but concluded that he must have gotten too close. She certainly was never going to let Achilles live this down.

Briseis could not believe what she was witnessing. These warriors were unlike any she had ever met and she had been around more than she cared to admit. Being the cousin of Hector, leader of the armies, she had many warrior suitors; all egotistical, chauvinistic pigs only wanting her for what she was.

But these two, and the fact that one was a woman, she could hardly believe it. The man had not tried anything with her. He had looked at her with kind, sometimes even amused, eyes and not the ones filled with the lust she had been expecting. And the woman who was still staring at her, had the most kind, beautiful face and eyes Briseis had ever seen. She did not know what to think of this.

Unable to believe that she felt she could trust these people, this woman, Briseis took a deep breath. "Briseis," she answered softly.

Achilla grinned triumphantly and giggled when she heard the groan from Achilles. "Lovely name," she said. "I am Achilla sister to Achilles, the groaner standing behind me," she said nodding to Achilles who had a look of irritation on his face.

Briseis' eyes widened in recognition and looked between the King and Queen of Phtia, the most feared fighters and leaders of the legendary Myrmidons.

As if reading her fear, Achilla shook her head and placed a comforting hand on Briseis' bent knee. "Do not worry," she said squeezing Briseis' knee gently. "You are safe here with us. We will not harm you," her voice left no room for doubt in Briseis mind.

With a nod from the stunned women, Achilla stood and faced her brother. "You…," she pointed at Achilles, "will behave or I will run you thru," she threatened, though her tone light.

Achilles shoulders slumped. "Sister, I would never harm her," he defended truthfully. Sure he may have fun teasing and baiting the priestess, but he would never inflict harm on a woman, this woman especially.

Achilla stared into her brother's eyes and saw something there that she had never seen before when he shifted his gaze between her and Briseis. Something about the priestess had captured her brother in a way no other woman had ever accomplished.

Briseis couldn't even begin to form words. She was amazed at the kindness showen to her by the King and Queen. The sincerity on Achilles face when he said he would not harm her had instantly convinced her that he would in fact not hurt her.

Achilla sighed and put her hand on her brother's chest. "Just saying what needs to be said brother; I know you would not harm her." She smiled when her brother sighed and kissed her forehead.

Before Achilla and Achilles could say another word, Eudorus called from outside the tent and a moment later stuck his head around the flap. "King Agamemnon requests your presence," he said looking between the two.

Achilla groaned in frustration. "Why would I want to go and stand before that waste of skin?" she protested folding her arms. "I would rather walk on hot coals than be in his insufferable presence," she grumbled.

Eudorus nodded in agreement, but continued by way of an explanation. "All the kings are there, celebrating his victory." He was never more grateful he didn't have to attend those useless meetings, he wasn't sure he would be able to contain himself. Imagine a king who expected other's to present him with gifts when he had no involvement in the victory? It was slightly insulting.

"His victory?" Achilles asked raising an eyebrow. "While he was sitting on his holy ass, we were out there fighting," he growled.

Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, Achilles looked over at Briseis. Flashing her a small smile, he turned to Eudorus. "We will be there shortly," he waved his hand for the man to leave and turned to his scowling sister and chuckled. "Go clean up, I will meet you outside," he said giving her a slight nudge towards the exit.

Looking at Briseis and nodding to the small woman, Achilla left grumbling under her breath something about Agamemnon being a sack of wine.

Achilles chuckled and turned to a dumbfounded Briseis. "She is something special," he stated fondly to the woman whose eyes were fixated on the entrance his sister just exited thru.

Briseis could only nod. She was utterly confused by the situation and the obvious hatred for Agamemnon. Where they not his soldiers? But she did find the younger woman amusing.

Achilles strapped on a more formal breastplate, strapped his sword to his back and swung his black cap over his shoulders, attaching it to the mettle clips on his armour. "I wouldn't think of leaving" he advised straightening out his garments. "For it is safer for you in here than out there," he nodded behind him to indicate the other Greek camps.

Sensing she would heed his warning, Achilles walked to the entrance. "Do not fear me," he looked back slightly at Briseis. "You're the only Trojan who can say that," he finished and left the tent to meet his sister leaving a still confused Briseis to try and decipher the unusual company she found herself in.

Achilla stood in the overly lavish tent with her arms crossed over her black robe, an evident scowl on her face as she glared murder at King Agamemnon while the other Kings presented him with gifts for 'his' victory. How she hated the man she repeated in her head every time Agamemnon opened his mouth.

Odysseus looked between the two siblings, their scowls matching the hatred illuminating from them. Leaning over and hopping to cage their anger, he spoke so only they could hear. "What do you expect?" he asked in amusement, nodding to King Triopas as he presented a vase of some sorts.

Achilla turned to Odysseus. "Exactly this," she hissed lifting one of her folded arms and waved a hand to the room of men. "A room full of overly dressed apes," she whispered.

Achilles, trying to contain his amusement over his sister's comment, nudged her to shut it for if she disturbed the pointless ceremony, it would only detain them longer and he wanted to return to the spirited priestess currently in his hut.

Grumbling under her breath, Achilla forced her temper in cheek. Just looking at Agamemnon angered her, something only he accomplished.

After a painstakingly long time of watching Kings present useless gifts to an equally useless King, the men in the room began to leave.

Odysseus turned and stood in front of the still scowling siblings as they waited for their turn to exit. "War is young men dying and old men talking. You both know this," he counselled in his fatherly tone. "Ignore the politics." He kissed Achilla on the forehead and patted Achilles on the shoulder as he too left the tent as both nodded in parting.

As Achilles and Achilla were about to exit, Agamemnon decided to acknowledge their presence. "You both fail to present me with a gift and you think you can leave?" he questioned raising a bushy eyebrow.

Both turned dangerously slow and glared at Agamemnon, the hate for him evident in their blue eyes. "Go to the temple of Apollo and take what you want," Achilles said dryly. His men of course had all ready taken everything of value and knew Agamemnon was too much of a coward to challenge him.

Keeping his eyes fixed on both, Agamemnon waived dismissively to his sides. "Leave us," he ordered motioning to the various advisors who all stood along side him waiting to discuss the next day's battle tactics.

Nestor sighed knowing that what Agamemnon was about to do would only infuriate the two. If Achilles and Achilla had a captive, it was for a good reason and they would not take kindly to Agamemnon taking her for himself. This was not going to end well, he could see it, but he left subjectively with the other gangly men following his lead, leaving Achilla and Achilles alone with the King.

Sighing irritably, Achilla and Achilles stood side by side making a show of their obvious anger and irritation by looking down at the King.

Finally bored of the silence, Achilles decided to do what he did second best, annoy the only man he couldn't kill. "Apparently," he said sarcastically, shifting his weight slightly. "You've won some great victory. Care to tell me which one, for I must have missed it while I achieved mine?" he said with a mocking look on his face. He could see out of the corner of his eye as Achilla bit her lip to keep from laughing out in hysterics.

Achilla of course fought to contain her laughter and waited for Agamemnon to do the expected and boast about himself.

Agamemnon ignored Achilles comment and, not letting Achilla down, stood waving his arm out behind them towards the beach. "Ah, perhaps you didn't notice. The Trojan beach belonged to Priam in the morning. It belongs to Agamemnon in the afternoon." He had seen right thru Achilles attempt to rile him and was going to outsmart him.

Unfortunately for Agamemnon, both remained stock faced not showing any indication of having been affected by his comment.

"You can have the beach. I didn't come here for sand," Achilles replied monotone.

Agamemnon recovered instantly, stepped down off his thrown and began to slowly pace. "No, you came because you want your name to last through the ages." When he saw a slight flicker in Achilles eyes he continued. "She came…," nodding to Achilla, "to ensure you and as many of your people live."

Stopping in front of the two most infuriating people, Agamemnon puffed out his chest in superiority. "A great victory was won today—but that victory was not yours."

Not realizing the fire burning in the two, he was stupid enough to continue. "Kings do not kneel to Achilles. Kings did not pay homage to Achilles," he said haughtily.

That was enough for Achilla. "Perhaps the Kings were too far behind to see. This King," she pointed to Achilles, "won the battle. The Greeks and said 'Kings' know who fought and achieved the real victory today," she said in a calm, collected voice while looking down at the King of Kings knowing it would only infuriate him more.

Achilles and Achilla were consumed with satisfaction and amusement when Agamemnon reacted just how they wanted by losing his temper.

Agamemnon's cubby, scarred face sucked in a deep breath and stormed back towards his throne with furious indignation. "History remembers Kings, not soldiers for they are nothing," he shouted spinning around to face them.

"Which is why it will remember Achilles," Achilla cut in before Agamemnon could get another word in.

Achilles had never in his life been more proud of his sister than he was at that moment. Not only was she clearly winning the battle of words once again, but the look of pure hatred and anger on Agamemnon's face was something he would never forget.

The satisfied smiles that remained on their faces only angered Agamemnon more. He continued, determined not to let them beat him. "Tomorrow we'll batter down the gates of Troy. I'll build monuments of my victory on every island of Greece and carve 'Agamemnon' in the stone. My name will last forever. Your names are written in the sand for the waves to wash away," he replied in a pathetic attempt to best them.

Both Achilles and Achilla just stood there staring at him, their smiles still plastered on their faces.

"Be careful, King of Kings. First you need the victory," Achilles stated with a raised eyebrow. He had instantly deflated what little of confidence the King had.

Achilla grinned evilly. "And since you say 'we'll' which I assume includes you…" she nodded at Agamemnon, "will do the battering, I highly doubt you will even reach the gates of Troy since you will be without the soldiers who are apparently nothing. Why win a war with lowly soldiers when we are so blessed with the pristine presence of such mighty Kings?" she added sarcastically, her grin growing at the blood red face of Agamemnon. She thought he might burst he was so red.

Her face immediately turning serious, Achilla decided to put the King in his rightful place and took a step forward and pointed her finger in Agamemnon's face. "The victory belongs to those who fight," she leaned over to ensure the King could see into her eyes. "I did not see your fat ass out there attempting to swing a sword, so do not think so highly of yourself that you are above the men who did achieve the victory," she said firmly, her voice slightly rising.

Achilles beamed. He was wrong, it was at this moment he had never been more proud of his sister.

Feeling tingled with pleasure at her success in silencing the King who continued to just blink at Achilla appalled and at a loss for words, brother and sister turned to leave.

Barley containing his rage and remembering why he stopped them, Agamemnon snapped his fingers capturing their attention. "I know your men sacked the temple of Apollo," he grinned slyly as both turned to face him, each with confused looks on their faces at his sudden change in demeanour.

"You want gold?" Achilla asked raising an eyebrow. Of course the fool did, all he cared about was riches and glory. But something in the man's eyes told Achilla this was not the direction Agamemnon was headed. The man was hiding something, something that she knew they were not going to like.

"Take it…it's our gift to honour your courage" Achilles said mockingly.

The grin on Agamemnon's face made their blood freeze. "I already have," he said and waved his arm behind Achilla and Achilles. "Aphareus! Haemon!" he shouted to two unseen guards.

Achilles and Achilla both spun around to see said guards immerge dragging a struggling woman into the middle of the tent. It only took a second for the siblings to recognize who it was. The split lip and bruised cheek indicating she had been rewarded for her strangles, only ignited a rage in the siblings yet to be seen by Agamemnon.

Agamemnon grinned in satisfaction and walked haughtily over to Briseis eyeing her like a fine animal. He could see that Achilles and Achilla had noticed how he stared at the priestess by the way they glared at him. This only fuelled him further, for they could not touch him and he was going to rub that in their faces. They may think they had beaten him with their pretty words, but ultimately, the victory was always his.

Unaware he was digging his grave, Agamemnon stood behind Briseis and took a lock of her hair between his cubby fingers. "The spoils of war," he said matter-of-factly. "Tonight I'll have her give me a bath," he sniffed a strand of her hair. Achilla held her breath for a moment hoping Agamemnon wouldn't notice her rich fragrance. Judging by his roaming eyes, Achilla deducted that he didn't. Idiot she thought to herself.

Agamemnon inclined his head slightly towards Briseis' neck but kept his eyes locking onto Achilles and Achilla. "And then…who knows?" he finished with a mischievous grin on his face.

Those words being said, both siblings snapped as the thoughts of such injustices being committed against the innocent woman filled their heads. Before anyone could even blink, both had unsheathed their swords, their eyes speaking the deaths of the soldiers should they challenge them.

"We have no quarrel with you brothers, but should you not release her…you will never see home again," Achilles said dangerously, his glare equally dangerous.

Seeing more guards enter the tent from the entrance behind them, Achilla twirled her sword and turned her head slightly to face them. "Decide," she said dryly.

Agamemnon just grinned. His naive thinking betrayed him as he nodded to his men to remove Achilles and Achilla's weapons; there was no way both Achilla and Achilles would fight his men.

Hearing the notching of an arrow, Achilla spun around and had lunched her sword into the archer's chest before he could even release the arrow aimed for her back.

The sound of the man hitting the floor was all that was heard before Agamemnon's soldiers took this as their cue to attack.

Achilla laughed and ducked away from a strike for her shoulder just to came up on the man's side and grab his sword arm thrusting it into a charging soldiers belly before he could even recoil. Achilla kneed the man in the gut, took the sword from his hand and cracked the hilt of the sword on the back of the man's neck rendering him unconscious as he slumped to her feet.

Achilla spun her sword again, grinning devilishly as a man charged her. Shooting a glance at her brother who already had bodies littered at his feet, Achilla ducked the swing for her head, did a leg-sweep and plunged her sword into the man's chest before he even hit the floor.

As a soldier came at her attempting to take advantage of her removing her sword from the man's belly, Achilla let go of the sword and did a jump kick into the man's face before he was close enough to get a swing in. As the man's head shot back, she did a side kick grabbed the sword from the dead man's belly and lunged at the staggering soldier ramming it into his gut.

Agamemnon's grin faded as he saw the doubt in his soldiers eyes as the remaining ones alive seemed to hesitate before engaging the unharmed Myrmidons. They were afraid. Giving them an equally deadly grin, the soldiers gulped and took a step towards Achilla and Achilles praying their deaths would be quick.

Before another sword could be swung, a voice broke the silence.

"STOP!" Briseis shouted stepping in between Achilla and Achilles. She was tired of the fighting, she was tired of death and she would not be responsible for more.

"Too many people have died today," she said by way of explanation for her outburst and nodding to the dead bodies that littered the floor.

Achilles stared at Briseis with annoyance but her eyes did not falter as she stared right back. "If killing is your only talent, than it's your course. But I don't want anyone dying for me," she said firmly looking between the two siblings.

Stupid girl, Achilla thought. She had no idea what was about to come by saying those words. Sighing in irritation, Achilla moved to the archer's body and removed her sword, swaying it behind her sending droplets of blood all over Agamemnon's throne.

The silence was broken by Agamemnon's laugh. "The mighty Myrmidon King and Queen, silenced by a slave girl!" he said in a highly amused voice

Achilla's knuckles were turning white from her grip. "She is not a slave," she hissed dangerously low.

Agamemnon begged to differ. "She is now," he said with a smirk.

With burning eyes Achilles raised his sword and pointed the bloody tip at Agamemnon. "Before my time is done King of Kings, I will look down on your corpse and smile." His dangerously cold tone sent a shiver thru the King's spine for Achilles had never broken a promise.

Unable to do anything, Achilles nodded to Achilla to leave. Both siblings stared at Briseis, each speaking their rage through their eyes and left.

Briseis watched the only two people who cared at all about her fate leave and turned her gaze to a grinning Agamemnon as he approached her. Swallowing and holding her head high, Briseis hid the pain the consumed her heart at what she had just done.

_Here we go…You all know what to do._


	6. Chapter 6

_Here we go. Sorry it took so long, had a lot going on this week. _

_My usual thanks to the wonderful Jamie-louise, Maddsy and CarolinaJuliette. I know I said that there would be a Hector and Achilla show in this chapter, but I just couldn't seem to work it out in this chapter. I hope you like it for it gives us a look into Achilla's past. Next one I PROMISE!!_

The echoing of Hector's strong, firm voice was all that could be heard as the councilmen sat in stilled silence as the Prince of Troy retold the horrors that occurred on the beach. Each man was unable to even think of forming words as the descriptive tale pierced through them all.

Hector stopped talking and looked over the room of men; all had solemn, downcast faces. "Achilles' and Achillas' men took the beach alone, without the assistance from the Greek army," Hector reiterated as he stood at the head of the two parallel lines of councilmen.

Turning to face his father, whose eyes mirrored his own unspoken pain, Hector did nothing to hide the concern written on his face. "If they fight, then Troy will surely fall," his voice almost lost as the council room erupted into a fury of angry voices.

"The walls of Troy have never been breached, you dare doubt us?" One man yelled angrily as he flew to his feet.

Hector turned to face the older man. "I do not doubt," he replied calmly. "I saw them with my own eyes. The skills they posses…," he paused and turned back around to face his father, "they were almost inhuman for I have never seen anyone move like they do," his tone full of concern and disbelief as he recalled the unforgettable pair.

King Priam sighed and looked to his oldest General. "Glaucus, what do you think?" he asked ignoring his son's scowl.

Glaucus stood, his chest puffed out haughtily. "We have Hector…" he boasted, pointing to the young Prince as if he was the answer to everything, "and the Walls of Troy. As long as we stand behind them, we cannot be defeated," he bellowed with the utmost confidence, the many councilmen murmuring their agreement.

Hector just stood ignoring the conversation around him deep in thought. There was something unusual about the way the Myrmidon Queen spoke as he recalled their conversation. "I spoke with Achilles and Achilla," Hector interrupted silencing the entire hall.

Paris' eyes widened. "And they let you leave?" he asked in disbelief, unable to believe his brother was still standing before him.

Hector glared at his brother who shifted uncomfortably and just shrugged. Returning his attention to the room Hector continued. "Achilles cares only for the honour this War will bring to his name. He believes this War will be told throughout the centuries and he believes that his name will be told in stories as a great warrior."

King Priam frowned, that seemed frivolous. "What of Queen Achilla?" he asked, hiding his surprise as a look he had not seen on his son's face in some time flashed across it. Noting to discuss that with him later, he waited patiently for his son to continue.

"That's what I don't understand," Hector replied softly looking at his father.

Ignoring the confused looks he was receiving, Hector nodded to the double oak doors across from him. "There is someone whom I think you all should meet," he said and nod to the soldier at the door. "Let him in," he ordered with a wave of his hand.

The soldier nodded and opened the large door and admitted one of their young generals.

King Priam looked at the general and then to his son confused. "And who is this?" he asked nodding to the man who was clearly in pain as he stood bowing before his King and Princes.

Hector smiled at the man as he stood. "This," he patted the man on his back softly. "Is General Lucian, a soldier who was at the beach today," he informed casting his eyes around the room.

A murmur broke out in the hall but quickly vanished when the King held up his hand for silence.

King Priam studied Lucian for a moment. "You are son of Tallous?" he asked for confirmation.

Lucian smiled and nodded. "I am your majesty," he replied proudly.

King Priam leaned forward and smiled at the young General. "I thank you for your bravery today, you did Troy a great honour" he said appraisingly.

Lucian nodded and bowed in appreciation.

"Lucian has an interesting story," Hector said turning to Lucian and nodding. "You have the floor my friend," he said moving and taking his seat to his father's right.

Lucian stood as straight as his wounded chest would allow and cleared his throat. "Your majesties," he addressed the King and Princes. "Queen Achilla asked me to tell you she was sorry," he felt a tad lame saying this but stood tall.

King Priam's eyes went wide as the entire room remained silent in shock.

"Is that some kind of sick joke?" Paris yelled breaking the silence, his brown eyes glaring.

Hector frowned and leaned over to face his brother. "Paris, let him finish," he ordered, his stern look silencing his brother.

Paris furrowed his brow in annoyance but remained silent and leaned back into his seat.

"Why did she tell you this?" King Priam asked trying to figure out if this was indeed some sort of joke or perhaps trick.

Lucian winced when he shrugged. "I am not sure. You see, Queen Achilla found and dressed my wound so I would be able to return without bleeding to death. She told me that not all Greeks were dishonourable," ignoring the murmurs he continued, "She has kindness in her, it is evident in her eyes. She could have easily handed me over to Agamemnon to be tortured for information, but she helped me to a horse and actually told me to leave before I was captured and bid me good health," he said as if still trying to convince himself that the events of the day had actually happened.

Hector stepped from this throne next to Lucian and held up his hand for silence as the councilmen were once again murmuring to one another. "The burning Pyres we saw this evening were those of our people being given a proper burial," he informed.

Again, silence.

Lucian nodded. "She told me that she would honour our people and help them cross to the Underworld," he finished a slight curl to his lips. She had kept her word.

King Priam smiled at Lucian. "Rest my young man and I thank you for brining me this information," he said softly, nodding to the door. It was evident by the boy's pale face he was beyond uncomfortable and the King did not want to trouble him any further.

Lucian smiled and nodded but remained where he stood. "May I say one more thing your highness?" he asked with a slight bow of his head hoping he wouldn't be beheaded for what he was about to say.

King Priam nodded. "Of course," he answered warmly, waving his hand at Lucian to continue.

Swallowing he held his head high. "I owe my life to her and do not think she is as heartless as we may have previously assumed her to be. I saw her fight and Hector is right, she alone could cut half our army. Her abilities are almost unnatural, yet it seems that she disagrees with this war. Something or someone is forcing her to fight and she does not wish to," his voice left no doubt in the men's minds that Lucian was speaking the truth.

Hector smiled nodding his agreement. "Thank you Lucian. Please rest," he said waving to the door.

Lucian bowed to the room and left.

Paris shook his head in disgust as the door closed. A woman warrior was a disgrace but to claim she was some sort of God was blasphemy.

Hector turned to his father and started to slowly pace. "You know the people of the temple were killed. But not by Achilla or Achilles," he informed.

"But their men did. It was their orders they were acting upon," he councilmember yelled in protest.

King Priam held up his hand. "Silence. No more interruptions," he ordered eyeing the grumbling man.

Hector looked to the councilman with a slight nod. "That's what I thought. Yes, their men did kill the people," he said sadly as he continued to pace. "But I stood there and witnessed as Queen Achilla ordered her men to build our people pyres and send them across with their own gold. She was furious with them for taking the innocent lives and made it quite clear she did not approve," he stopped and looked out at all the stunned men's face. He really was amazed at himself for he felt as if he was defending her to his own people.

King Priam broke the silence. "Perhaps with a woman like her, this war will not be as we thought," he said softly resting his head on the palm of his hand.

Paris had enough and rose. "We cannot think that one single woman can save this war. I will not allow it to even continue," his eyes wide and set as he stared at the council and refusing to meet the questioning eyes of his brother and father.

The room of men just stared at the Prince who had stared the whole thing. "What could you possibly do?" another councilmember yelled.

Hector and Priam glared at the men before they turned their heads eyeing Pairs to continue.

Standing tall, Paris took a deep breath. "This war is my doing," he held up his hand as Hector was about to speak, "I will not give up Helen; therefore, I offer a solution," he paused slightly and took a step towards his father. "I will challenge Menelaus to the death," he finished doing nothing to hide the fear in his eyes.

The hall erupted in loud, angry voices while Hector stood and stared at his brother disapprovingly.

King Priam held up his hand for silence and looked at Hector giving him a nod to his throne to sit. Turning back to his youngest he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Paris, do you hear what you are saying?" he asked having seen the fear in his youngest son's eyes.

Paris nodded slowly. "I do. The winner will take Helen and the loser will burn," he replied, though his lack of confidence evident as his eyes darted to and fro.

Hector was stunned silent. All of Troy knew Paris was useless with a sword, he was a lover not a fighter and to even think of challenging Menelaus was suicide.

"Paris," Hector addressed his brother with authority as he stood. "Do you honestly think Agamemnon cares for his brother's wife?" He asked as he stepped off his throne and before the boy he always protected. "Menelaus will kill you, take Helen and kill her, and Agamemnon will continue to wage war on Troy."

"But…"

Hector shook his head. "Agamemnon wants Troy and does not care if Helen lives or dies," he said sternly as he grabbed Paris' shoulders. "You know you cannot defeat Menelaus, this will not happen," his tone was firm but his eyes pleading with his brother.

"You do not know this Hector," A councilmember yelled as he stood.

Paris and Hector turned to the older man as he continued. "Paris has a point. He started this war, let him finish it. We have already lost too many to risk losing more. If Paris' plan works, this could save thousands," he yelled; the voices of agreement from the remaining counsel echoing around them.

Paris swallowed the insults and turned to Hector, his eyes telling his older brother he would fight then turned to his father moving out of Hector's grasp. "It is settled, I will fight Menelaus," he resolved.

King Priam looked sadly at his son then to his council members. "I want time alone with my sons, leave us," he waved them out of the room signalling the meeting was over.

Once alone with his sons King Priam nodded for them to sit. "Call for Helen,'" he ordered a guard at the door, who nodded and left to do as his King bid.

Hector and Paris looked at each other confused then to Priam. "Father this does not concern her. Do not trouble her with topics of war," Paris pleaded.

Priam looked at his son and shook his head. "She is just as much of Troy as you are Paris, and therefore has a right to know what is going on and voice her concerns. Andromache always did," he said the last part sadly looking to Hector who had a brief flash of pain in his eyes at the mention of his lost love.

Within minutes a timid Helen was announced and entered, Paris walking to greet her as Priam and Hector stood.

Helen took Paris' outstretched hand and looked at him confused as he led her in front of his father.

"My dear," Priam greeted kissing her cheeks. "I apologize for the hour, but we have much to discuss with you," he said while Hector kissed her cheeks.

Helen bowed her head and nodded. "Is there something wrong?" she felt it was a stupid question as soon as the words left her mouth. Of course there was, all of Greece was outside Troy's walls and it was her fault.

King Priam smiled and sat signalling Paris to retell what had occurred that day on the beaches of Troy.

After Paris retold the story and his plan to fight Menelaus, he had to catch her as she collapsed in tears. "This is all my fault," she sobbed into Paris' shoulder.

Hector put his hand on his father's arm as he stood to go to the sobbing woman. "Let me," he said softly and joined his brother as he tried to sooth the distraught woman.

Hector crouched before Helen. "Helen," he said softly touching her shoulder. Helen pulled away from Paris slightly, his arms still wrapped around her as she looked at Hector. It was no secret to both of them that Hector disapproved of her relationship with Paris. It was evident in the way he would look or address her.

Hector smiled softly and wiped away a fallen tear. "Do not cry dear sister for this is not your fault. You know Agamemnon has always wanted Troy; your leaving was just an excuse for him to come sooner rather than later. He cares not for you or his brother's honour, but for power and glory," he spoke to her softly and delicately so as to not further upset the already fragile woman.

Helen just blinked. She had not expected such sincere words to come from a man who had blamed her for this war.

Helen smiled weakly at Hector then looked up at King Priam who nodded, also smiling at her. How she got blessed with such a family was beyond her and flew into Hector's arms and held him close as more tears fell.

Paris and Priam smiled at each other as Hector spoke comforting words to the distraught Princess. Pulling away and kissing Hector on the cheek Helen suddenly clued in on what Paris planned to do.

"But Paris," she turned in horror to face her love. "Menelaus is a seasoned warrior, he will kill you," she stated truthfully, new tears streaming down her face as she cupped her Paris' cheeks.

Paris held her hands over his face and tried to give her a reassuring smile. "No my love," he then pushed a golden lock over her shoulder, "I will win and Troy will be free as will you. Do not worry." He could see the doubt in her eyes as she fought to believe him.

Nodding submissively already knowing that there were no words to be said to change his mind, Helen leaned further into her Paris' embrace and sighed. "So you met Queen Achilla?" she asked looking at Hector as she moved out of Paris' embrace and tucked her feet underneath her.

All three Trojan men narrowed in on Helen. "You know her?" Paris finally asked.

Helen feeling a bit more confident nodded. "I have met her a few times, amazing woman," she praised, then paled. "She is undefeated, as is Achilles," she whispered sadly.

Priam came off his throne and joined his children on the floor. "Tell us what you know about her?" he asked. He was in utter confusion over the actions of the Myrmidon Queen and found his curiosity eating away at him.

Taking a deep breath, Helen looked at the King. "Achilla and Achilles tale is known thought all of Greece," she began. "They are only half siblings," she informed and watched as their eyes widened.

"But there are completely identical," Hector said recalling the same blond hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes; they were both beautiful.

Helen nodded to Hector. "They look like their father, so I am told. Achilla's mother was King Peleus favourite concubine, she was an Amazon. The kingdom and men of the Gods believed that Achilla was a blessing from the Gods since she was the female version of Achilles. Both children resembled their father in every way so Achilla was given the same privileges as Achilles. Achilles was 7 when Achilla was born and was already proving to be a skilled fighter. So Achilla was thrown into training as soon as she was able. She lived and trained with the Amazons for many years until her mother died in battle and her father called for her return." Helen stopped to shift slightly and take a breath. She couldn't help but smile as the three men shifted in anticipation, completely enthralled with the story.

"How old was she?" Hector asked.

Helen thought for a moment trying to recall. "I believe she was 4 seasons when she started training with the Amazons. She lived back and forth with the Amazon's and King Peleus until he called her back permanently. Agamemnon soon took over when Achilla was 15."

King Priam frowned. "But the Myrmidons are the fiercest Grecians; surely they would have stood up to Agamemnon?" he asked unable to believe such fierce warriors would give up their own land to the likes of Agamemnon.

Helen nodded sympathetically. "Agamemnon and Menelaus knew this and were smart, they took Ithaca first and with the three combined armies, King Peleus would have signed his country over to death. He loved his people so swore allegiance to Agamemnon." Helen stopped as her face scowled. "From what the stories say, Agamemnon took Achilla as his trophy for his conquest," she said with anger and disgust. All three didn't fail to see the horror and anger on Hector's face.

"As you are aware Hector, Achilla's beauty is like no other," Helen continued putting up her hand when Paris was about to protest. "I assure you Paris, I am nothing compared to her and I have no problem admitting it," she said humbly.

Priam smiled and nodded for her to continue. "Achilles and King Peleus were furious when Agamemnon took Achilla. Achilles went on a rampage alone and killed any and all who got in his path, he even made it to Agamemnon's palace," she smirked. "You all have seen Agamemnon and know the scares that mark the left side of his face?" she asked, all nodded as they recalled. "Achilla gave those to him the first night he had her captive. He tried to take her and she nearly killed him. Achilles met Achilla when she fled and threatened Agamemnon's life should he ever touch Achilla again."

King Priam felt for the young woman. It was a sin against the Gods to try and take woman forcefully, but he couldn't help but mirror his children's grin picturing a 15 season old girl nearly killing a man twice her age.

Hector's face turned serious. "What happened to her father?" he asked.

Helen sighed. "He died in one of Agamemnon's battles two years later," she said sadly. "Agamemnon hates Achilla and Achilles because they are the only ones who defy him, yet he cannot win without them. The King of Ithaca, Odysseus, is close friends with them and Agamemnon knows that if Achilla and Achilles were to stand up against him, Odysseus would eventually follow; thus a chain would start where the rest would follow them. The Greeks respect and looked up to the Myrmidons, not Agamemnon…at least that's what I was told. It is not for certain whether the Greeks would follow them," she trailed off as she sat and watched the three men lost in thought.

Hector sighed. "I still cannot figure out why Achilla is here? Achilles wants his name remembered, but what reasons does she have?" he asked looking at Helen.

Helen smiled, her soft hazel eyes twinkling. "Achilla is much like you Hector," her smile growing at his frown of confusion.

Paris looked enraged. "You compare us to them," he hissed unable to believe his love would say such a thing.

Helen snapped her head at Paris. "They are not who you think they are Paris. Do not judge so quickly," she said softly, but forcefully.

The room was silent as all three stared at the usually timid woman who suddenly had grown confident. Paris just smiled sarcastically. "Then explain them to me," he asked crossing his arms.

Helen arched a perfect eyebrow and turned to face Priam. "I can guarantee she is here to protect her family and people. She does not fight because she wants her name remembered as Achilles does, but does to save lives."

Paris cocked his head to the side. "How does fighting in battle, save lives?" he asked sarcastically.

Helen rolled her eyes at Paris. "While you were in Sparta, you heard King Triopas lost to King Agamemnon?" Paris and Hector nodded. "Well Agamemnon challenged Triopas' best fighter against his. Achilla was forced against a giant of a man, so I'm told, and killed him without the man getting a single swing in. She, therefore, saved the lives of many on both sides," she said the last part to Paris who nodded in defeat.

Priam smiled, he would like to meet this Queen and looked to Hector who was slouched, his elbows resting on his crossed knees as he sat staring into space deep in thought. "What do you think of son" he asked.

Hector sat up straight. "That is why she helped Lucian and gave him that message for you father. She has no choice but to fight," he said looking at his father. "That's why she was so upset when the Priests' were all killed." He paused and looked at his father. "I believe you were right father," he smiled as his everyone looked at him confused. "Perhaps with a woman like her, this war may end differently than we thought."

_Okay, you know what to do. The more I get, the faster I get my chapters out._


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you to all my lovely reviewers!! I appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think._

Achilla and Achilles sat in his tent the next morning in fuming silence as they replayed the previous night's events; Achilles forming every possible injustice being committed against his priestess and Achilla debating whether her brother was going to accept what she wanted to say or not.

Sighing in resolution, Achilla looked up at her now pacing brother. "You care for the Trojan," she stated as she sat up on her brother's bed, her blue eyes searching his face.

Achilles stopped his pacing; his mask of emotions showed the slight shock he felt. He should have known as her gaze intensified she had figured him out. "She is different," he replied resuming his pacing to confirm her assumption.

Achilla nodded with a small smile. She did not care who the woman was that had captured her brother's heart, she was just happy that someone had. He deserved to be loved in the way a man should. Hopping that perhaps this new love would work in her favour, Achilla stood. "Brother," she said placing her hand in front of him to stop his useless pacing.

Staring at his sister to continue, Achilla took a deep breath, her chin slightly raised as if to dare him to defy her. "I refuse to fight any more for Agamemnon," she said firmly.

Achilles just blinked at his sister as he stared down into her set face. He knew she had been thinking this for some time, her face was a dead give away when you knew what to look for. But she was right. Things had changed and he understood now.

His set lips slowly curled upwards, a grin forming as Achilla's face reflected his having understood his look. "I agree sister. I will not fight until be begs and kisses my feet for Achilles to fight," he said in oath, his chest slightly puffed out.

Achilla frowned slightly, that was not exactly the reason she had but before she could utter another word, the tent flap was pulled aside and Eudorus entered.

The anger illuminating off the siblings was still there and Eudorus only hopped the approaching battle was enough to lighten their mood. "My lord, my lady," he nodded to them both. "The army is marching," he informed them.

Achilles shrugged not at all concerned with the information. "Let them march. We stay," he commanded and ignored the shocked look on Eudorus' face.

"But…" he stuttered when two sets of blue eyes glared at him. "The men are ready," he said lamely, as if his words were convincing.

Achilla shook her head. "Agamemnon has disrespected us for the last time. We no longer fight for him," she explained; a weight was suddenly lifted off her shoulders as the words left her mouth. "He will fight the Trojan's today and will know who the real warriors are in his army when he losses," she finished firmly. She didn't doubt the Trojans and without her and Achilles, the Greeks would begin to question their King and doubt themselves.

Eudorus just blinked as he attempted to digest what he just heard. Realizing their decision was unwavering, he left with a reluctant nod and went off to tell the men and try to understand all that had just happened.

Achilla sighed and looked at Achilles expectantly. "I give him ten seconds before he is in here yelling," she stated knowingly.

Achilles nodded in agreement and sure enough, the roar of Patroclus filled the air and his raging form soon appeared before them.

"You drag us all the way here, now you deny us the right to fight?" he screamed waving his arms in the air, his soft blue eyes glaring between his cousins.

Achilla squared her shoulders, her back straight as she glared back at her cousin. "You're ready to fight cousin?" she asked staring him down watching his confidence wither. "Ready to kill, take an innocent life all because some fool thinks he has the right to take what does not belong to him?" she hissed, an eyebrow raised daring him to challenge her.

Patroclus was struck dumb, he had never thought of it that way. Looking at Achilles and the stone cold look on his face, the younger man knew this was a waste of his breath; but, since when did he back down? "You both could save thousands of lives just by being there," he replied hopping to play on Achilla's one weakness.

Achilles shook his head. "Agamemnon fights because he says the Trojans insulted the Greeks," he paused leaning in to Patroclus. "Well Agamemnon insulted us in the worst way and now he will suffer the consequences," his tone told Patroclus that if he tried to argue more, there would be punishment.

Achilla could see Patroclus' nostrils flaring with a rage he was attempting to keep at bay and not at all absorbing Achilles words. "You want to see war cousin?" she asked in a cold tone as she continued her unwavering stare.

Patroclus' shoulders slumped in defeat. "I want to fight for you," he replied softly as his eyes pleaded with them to understand.

Achilla looked at Achilles then back at her cousin knowing full well what he was thinking. But the problem was he was just too naive. He didn't understand that war was not all fun and games, it was death and pain. "Come, let's watch and you can see what war looks like. Perhaps then you will reconsider," she said dryly before she left the tent knowing the two inside would follow.

The Myrmidons stood calmly and watched as the Greeks marched towards the Trojans. Achilla stood at the very edge of the cliff, Achilles and Patroclus slightly behind her with their men surrounding them, and couldn't help but relish the breeze that blew her loose hair around her, she felt free. She took the time to study the infamous Troy and couldn't help but marvel at its beauty. It was a magnificent City, surrounded by strong, high walls that would no doubt be indestructible. The Greeks didn't stand a chance breaking those walls.

Achilla also admired the Trojan army as it prepared for battle. Rows and rows of men all stood with spears and shields, ready to die to protect their Eden like City. This would be one of the first battles she thought Agamemnon would possibly lose.

"Agamemnon will not be expecting this," Achilla said to no one in particular as she watched the Greeks line up lazily away from the Trojans.

Achilles came to stand next to his sister and nodded in agreement. "Smart," was all he said as he watched the tight Trojan lines.

Hector, Paris, King Priam, Helen and many other nobles all stood at the terrace and watched the outnumbering army approach. There was nothing but silence as no words could offer comfort or describe the anxiety each of them felt.

As the armies approached, Hector found himself scanning the lines for the Myrmidons, one in particular. "Do you see the Myrmidons? The King's chariot is not with the others," he asked in bewilderment. _Why were they not at the front?_

Paris shot his brother a confused look then returned to scanning the lines and shook his head.

Hearing his son, Priam and Helen flashed each other a concerned look before they joined the two princes at the edge of the terrace. "They dress in black, but I do not see them," Hector informed as he scanned more.

"Look on the ridge!"

All turned to where the archer was pointing and gawked. "You don't suppose that is them?" Helen asked, her hands held tightly to her chest.

Hector, Paris, Priam and many others all walked to the other end of the terrace and sure enough, two unmistakable figures stood at the edge. One stood out especially to Hector as he watched her long blond hair blow around wildly.

"It's Achilla and Achilles," he said in almost in a whisper, his mind whirling with questions as to why they were not fighting.

King Priam looked to his son and then back to the figures on the ridge. "Are you sure?" he asked hopeful. If the Myrmidons were not fighting, Troy stood a chance.

Hector nodded eagerly with a slight grin. "I am sure father. That is the Myrmidons and that means they are not fighting," his words were hurried as his chest felt heavy under his armour. It was as if there was no war at all he felt such an overwhelming relief.

Cheers erupted on the terrace as many others realized what that meant. Helen kissed Paris happily before embracing Hector.

"Why do you think they are not fighting?" Paris asked Helen as they returned to the centre of the terrace and got ready to join the armies.

All eyes focused on the Princess as she stood in thought. "My only guess is that Agamemnon must have finally angered them both beyond repair," she said smiling which quickly faded as she realized what was about to happen.

"That means nothing now. You are still fighting," she said sadly to Paris, her face stricken with grief as tears rolled down her perfect cheeks.

Achilla found her eyes locked onto Hector's obvious form as his army parted for him so he could make his way to the front. She found her body tingling with conflicting feelings. She feared for Odysseus. She couldn't give a damn about the others, but Odysseus and his men were good men. On the other hand, she feared for Hector, he was also a good man. She thought of the kind words Lucian had spoken to her and prayed he was smart enough not to fight wounded. These were two Trojans who were fine men and she had a feeling most were like that. She didn't want any of them to die either.

Hector watched his brother walk toward Menelaus and quickly looked up to the ridge where he knew Achilla was watching. He couldn't help but think of her beautiful body and shockingly beautiful face. He was glad she was not fighting for he feared he would not be able to kill her.

The clang of metal brought Hector's attention back to his brother and Menelaus' battled.

Achilla found herself almost screaming in frustration. Why was Paris fighting? She could understand the idea, for from the ridge she could tell that Paris was obviously not a warrior, he was too delicate looking. She watched in horror as the young prince crawled to his brother and clung to his leg, obviously pleading for his life. She gave the man credit for trying, but he was only proving to her that he was forcing Hector to protect him yet again. Her eyes closed in pain as she saw Hector run Menelaus through. Not that she cared for the bastard King, but for the consequences of what just happened.

"Nothing but a coward and fool," Achilles shouted throwing his arms angrily in the air as he started to pace also realising what this meant.

Achilla only nodded and watched as the Greek armies ran to attack. Agamemnon would never surrender now; he would fight right down to the very last Greek to get his revenge.

Achilla's eyes widened in horror as the Greeks scattered into the holding Trojan lines. The Trojan's were smart as they held their lines firmly as more Greeks continued to run right into their spears, those who pushed through only to meet more.

Archers appeared over the walls and fired on the Greeks, each arrow killing their targets. With the Trojan's holding their lines perfectly, the Greeks that were all running to push through were dropping like flies. The archers had no worries about hitting their comrades as they continued to stand strong and in line.

"They are too close to the wall," Achilla said anxiously looking at Achilles whose face was set in frustration.

"Pull back," Achilles said to the air as he started pacing again to control his nerves. He too worried for Odysseus as it was not looking good for the Greeks.

"Get them in line," Achilla yelled as she too paced with her brother.

The Trojan lines were too tight for the Greek soldiers to push through and were soon forced back, allowing a line of Trojan fighters to immerge.

"Oh Gods, Achilles…," Achilla brought her hand to her mouth, her brother stopping his pacing and standing next to her. "Hector just killed Ajax," she whispered.

"What?!" Patroclus yelled coming to their side, his eyes wide in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was seeing as he followed Achilla's pointed finger where Hector rejoined battle leaving a long, limp form of Ajax.

"See cousin," Achilles said thru gritted teeth, "this is what war is, death to those you love," he looked at his sister thankful they were not there and pulled her close.

Achilla clung to her brother and searched for her friend. "I see Odysseus," she yelled pointing, leaning away from Achilles. "He is calling his army back." She watched as he ran to Agamemnon and obviously convinced the King to call back the men.

Patroclus, however, was not happy as he watched the Greeks run. "You both could have stopped this," he yelled to his cousin.

Achilla and Achilles spun around and glared at their cousin, stalking towards him as he took frightful steps back. One of them was intimidating but when they stood together, it was enough to frighten an army into submission.

"What do you think we could have done?" Achilla yelled, her blue eyes blazing. "We would have lost our men," she pointed to the Myrmidons who all had sad, yet relieved looks on their faces. They too were conflicted with their King and Queen. Many did not agree with the war against the Trojans and were glad they didn't have to risk their lives. But watching their fellow Greeks get slaughtered was difficult knowing they could have made a large impact should they have fought.

Patroclus frowned as his back hit a boulder. "Think of the Greeks that just died. You could have saved them, you are masters of war," he snarled as he tried to stand tall, pointing to each of them. "They would have listened and followed you," he yelled, his voice hitching with emotion.

Achilles stepped into his cousin's face. "You would sentence your people to death all because you desire blood on your sword cousin?" he asked dangerously low. Patroclus just swallowed and lifted his chin defiantly, unnerved by his mentor's stare. "That is why you are not King for you think with your blade and not your head," his words were like arrows to Patroclus' heart as his face paled.

Achilles seeing as his words got across, turned and looked at his men who all stood, tall and proud with his sister in front of them. With a nod from her he walked off, his men following leaving Patroclus and Achilla on the ridge.

Patroclus just stood there and stared at the sword he now held in his hands. The hurtful words of the man he looked up to ringing in his ears.

Achilla unsheathed her own blade and twirled it through the air perfectly. "A sword is always a last resort Patroclus," she said dancing around. For a woman who was only three seasons his senior, she talked to him as if a child. "It is not the first and only defence," she continued to dance around her cousin knowing he was listening.

"To be considered a true Myrmidon, that is what you must learn," she stopped when her blade appeared at his throat out of nowhere. "That is what makes us who we are." She removed her blade and held it out in front of her and her cousin, the sun reflecting off the flawless metal.

"Myrmidons earn respect and honour because we fight with our heads; most of the time," she added recalling the slaughter at Apollo's temple. "That…," she looked back at her cousin, "is why the Greeks would follow us. Taking life is not all glory and honour cousin. The men we have killed haunt our dreams," she re-sheathed her sword and took the silent man's hands and led him to the edge.

She waved her hand out at the valley of dead bodies, her face a mask but her body screamed with pain for all the men who died. "Look at those men and tell me what they died for?" she asked, a hand planted firmly on her hip as she leaned onto one leg.

Patroclus sighed and hung his head. "They died for their King," he replied.

Achilla gave a slight nod. "Yes, and did you see their Kings out there fighting with their people?" she asked knowing Patroclus would know that Odysseus was not to be included.

Patroclus shook his head dejectedly. "No," he whispered. Agamemnon had stood at the back of the lines like a scarred dog.

"Yet Achilles, myself, Odyessus and even Prince Hector all fight with their people. They lead their people as equals." She looked sadly as the Trojans started to pick up their dead. "These people…," she nodded to Troy, "did nothing to warrant this war," she said softly.

Patroclus fumed as his mind snapped. "They disgraced Greece," he yelled disregarding her previous words. "A spoiled little Prince who is a coward started this war and cares not for the people he kills but only his selfish desires," he snarled, his arms swung out in the direction of the Palace terrace where they could see the two men watching them.

Achilla looked and knew Hector was there then back at Patroclus, her own irritation starting to get the better of her. "We have argued about this Patroclus. How is a woman leaving her filth for a husband a dishonour to us?" she asked as she crossed her arms. "Explain to me how you came to that conclusion?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Patroclus opened and closed his mouth like a beached fish trying to form some sort of explanation. Not able to form one, he swivelled around and stormed off growling childishly.

Achilla remained where she was and watched her cousin march back to the beach. He was too immature for battle. He held too much confidence in himself and was selfish. He didn't respect the Trojans and thought too highly of the Greeks and that is what would get him killed. He needed to respect others, including his enemy in order to defeat them.

Sitting on a pillar, Achilla decided to stay where she was. She had no desire to return to a camp of men and listen to Odysseus come up with some fancy words on behalf of Agamemnon, the name of that man automatically bringing a bad taste in her mouth. Nothing he could do or say would dissuade her. She would not let Agamemnon rule her or her people any longer and would fight with the Trojans before ever joining him again.

The city of Troy was bustling with people as Hector returned to the palace. Celebrations were all ready beginning over the victory yet Hector could find no cause for joy. They had lost men, Paris had almost died and his actions guaranteed the war would not end now until they defeated every Greek or Troy burned.

Hector made his way to the terrace where he was told his father still stood with heavy feet. "Father?" he spoke tiredly as he approached the edge that overlooked the cliffs. When he reached his father's side, he followed his gaze and saw Achilla dancing around with her sword, a young man in front of her.

"I believe…," Priam said still not looking at his son, "She is trying to reason with him." He had been watching them since the Greeks had left and couldn't turn away; she moved with her sword as if it as another limb. The woman had him captivated and he wanted nothing more than to know her.

Hector watched as the sun reflected off her blade while she seemed to be schooling the man who was a whole head taller than her. He found himself hoping that the man she was talking with was family and not a lover.

Hector was so captivated with Achilla he failed to notice his father was now watching him. "She has captured your special attention," it was a statement since the evidence was clearly written on the Prince's face.

Hector looked at his father hoping to mask the truth behind his father's words. "She is my enemy," he replied trying to convince himself.

"Ah," Priam muttered turning back to face Achilla and watched as she waved her hand out to Troy and looked right where they were standing. "I do not think she is our enemy Hector," he said feeling her eyes on them, "That woman is anything but."

Hector sighed as she looked away from them. He hadn't realized he was holding a breath and as he watched the young man storm away and Achilla recline against a boulder, he found himself wanting to go to her, an uncontrollable urge taking over his body.

Turning back to his father, he had his mind set. "How is Paris?" he asked wanting to make sure his brother was well.

Priam seemed to read his son's eyes, but didn't let on. "Helen is tending him, he will be fine." He flashed his son a knowing look when Hector excused himself and hurried off.

Turning back to watch the woman who was infectious he continued to smile. His son would go to her and perhaps she could fill the hole that was in his heart. He had a feeling that this woman would be their saviour and not just Hector's.

Achilla enjoyed where she sat. It reminded her of home, the breeze blowing in her face as she continued to watch the life around her, sadly in some cases the lack thereof. Her peace was sadly interrupted though when she heard approaching footsteps and not coming from the direction of the beach.

Jumping to her feet, Achilla quickly ran and hid behind a boulder and waited for her uninvited guest to arrive. Who she saw, however, caused her breath to hitch and her stomach to flutter.

Standing at the edge of the cliff was none other than Prince Hector. He had bathed and wore simple armour with a sword at his hip. Achilla found an overwhelming urge to run her fingers through the impeccable brown curls that graced his head and kept tame by various gold clasps.

"I know you are here Queen Achilla," Hector said turning around and scanning his surroundings.

Her feet betraying her, Achilla immerged from her hiding place to Hector's left. "The question is, why are you here Prince Hector?" she asked calmly as she walked in front of him, half smirking as the Prince jumped at her sudden appearance.

Hector once again found himself momentarily mute for he could see clearly just how beautiful she really was; and he had thought she was beautiful when she was covered in blood and grime. The sunset illuminated Achilla's tanned skin causing her to glow, her blue eyes sparkling and her blond hair blowing around her, her hallo. Hector's eyes again travelled to her immaculate legs that were in clear view. She had her sword strapped to her back and wore the same black breast plate that hugged her body like second skin and Hector's mouth once again went dry with a desire to touch said skin.

Achilla found herself uncomfortable with his stare and shifted her weight. "Do you always stare Prince?" she asked annoyed. "For if that is what they are teaching Trojan's as acceptable behaviour, I dare say I find it offensive," she said lowly, crossing her arms with a slight frown. She did not like the real feelings she had when he stared at her and was trying to push them away.

Hector shook his head. "Forgive me my lady, I did not mean to cause any offence," he said softly as he looked into her eyes, his face soft and caring yet strong. Achilla could stare into his face for eternity.

Nodding, Achilla relaxed and uncrossed her arms. "Again I ask Prince, why are you here?" she said dryly with a raised eyebrow.

"Hector," he said taking a small step towards her but stopping when her eyes darkened in warning. "Please call me Hector." He took another bold step forward.

Achilla was cracking, she knew the dangers she faced with this man but she couldn't force herself to move and him taking steps closer to her was not helping. His firm, beautiful body stood tall and strong, his face firm, yet soft and gentle and the kindness in which he spoke, she couldn't help the sensation that overcame her body. "Do you intend to capture me? For you still have not answered my question?" she was getting irritated not with Hector, but with the heat rising in her body and knowing there was nothing she could do to quell it. Well, she could but it would be very, very wrong.

Hector raised an eyebrow. "You and I both know I would not be able to capture you my lady," he said knowingly with a slight smirk on his face.

Achilla just blinked not expecting that answer.

Smiling, Hector took another step. "I came to see you. No tricks, no captures, I just wanted to talk," he took another step and he was now so close he could smell her. She had the most sensual scent. She smelled like the ocean and orchids.

Achilla cocked her head to the side in question, "Talk?" She noticed his advances but found she was growing with excitement at his closeness. "What could you possibly wish to talk to me about?" she asked her eyes scanning over his body as it was now inches from hers, calling to her.

Hector took a deep breath. "Why did you not fight today?" he asked taking a final step so he was now toe to toe with this worrier Goddess before him.

Achilla cocked her head up slightly in order to look at him. "Do you wish to fight me Hector?" she asked defensively.

Hector shook his head. "I do not," he answered instantly. "I only wish to know why you come all the way here, take our beach and yet now you only watch," he explained his voice still soft and colldected.

Achilla was silent as she contemplated on what she should tell this man. Should she trust him? She had no reason not to, other than the large fact he was supposed to be her enemy. This was all giving her a headache.

Achilla's silence only provoked Hector to continue. "Lucian spoke of you," he watched her face soften at the mention of the man's name. "He says he is indebted to you."

Achilla chuckled then moved back to the edge of the cliff and continued to watch as Greeks were now removing their dead. "I saved one life," she said softly not looking at him as he stood next to her. "But look how many more were taken," she sadly, nodding to the blood stained valley.

Hector smiled at her sincere voice. "You did not just save one," he said as he turned to her and smiled as she looked at him confused. "You could have killed me, you still could," he said softly looking into her hypnotic blue eyes. "Think of all those who would have died if you and your people would have fought today," he all but whispered as he itched to grab a blond curl that blew across her face.

"I wouldn't kill you Hector," she sighed as she looked at him. "And I do not wish to kill your people," she looked back over Troy. Hector felt a long forgotten feeling flow through his body as she paused.

"There is no honour in that," she said firmly as she pointed to the valley. "Why history feels the need to record death is something that is beyond me," she said with a frown still not looking at Hector. "My brother cares for the name he will leave behind and that has created the man he is." She didn't know why she was telling him all this, but she found this man intoxicating. "He was born for battle yes, but he cares for nothing but his name."

Achilla turned to face him and wished she hadn't, he was Godlike in appearance, beautiful and flawless. He was worthy to carry his sword and had been blessed to wield it. How she wished they met under different circumstances.

Hector never wanted this moment to end. "He cares for you obviously," he said recalling the fondness in the man's eyes as he watched his sister at the temple.

Achilla flashed a genuine smile. "He does. Woe to the world should I ever be taken from him, and vice-versa," she said sadly not wanting to think of her brother ever leaving her. "But Achilles takes everything around him for granted. He is a great King and warrior; he is fearless, strong, noble and everything a man should be," she trailed off with a smile on her face.

Hector could tell there was a 'but' coming up. "But?" he asked urging her to continue. He could listen to her talk for forever.

Achilla sighed and looked back over the valley. "But, he came here for the sole purpose of killing you so his name could be remembered. He wants to be a legend and he feels that killing you is the key. He came here not caring to return so long as he gets his name etched in stone," she said sadly. "That is the only thing we disagree on, usually," she finished with a slight chuckle.

Hector came to the conclusion that the young woman before him would forever amaze him. "So why again didn't you fight? Both of you?" he asked hopping to change the subject. It was a tad unnerving hearing about the man who wished nothing but to kill him.

Achilla fully turned to Hector and ignored the question. "Do you know a woman name Briseis?" she watched as Hector's eyebrows disappeared under his mop of curls, his face turning to a look of shock.

"She is my cousin," he said hurriedly, his hands instinctively shooting out and grasping Achilla's upper arms. "Is she alive? Is she safe? Tell me," he asked urgently.

Achilla glanced to a large hand that was firmly, albeit gently, gripping her arm. His thumb was absentmindedly stroking her flesh and she felt it burn under his touch. Realising what he was doing, Hector removed his hands as if he had touch fire, both noticing in the other's eyes that the contact was missed.

Taking a deep breath, Achilla looked at Hector. "She was captured by my men." She saw his eyes darken in rage but quickly shook her head. "She was not harmed; actually…," she said with a grin, "the lovely thing gave them quite a fight," she mused recalling the scratches and burses on some of her men's faces.

Hector's face softened and he found he smiled picturing his lively cousin. "Yes, she has a temper that one," he chuckled.

Achilla nodded in agreement. "She is also fearless and courageous," she said fondly which quickly turned into a frown. "Achilles and I kept her safe; however, Agamemnon and his men discovered her and took her. Stupid woman called us off," she said darkly still annoyed by the situation.

Hector's eyes widened as images of his cousin being mistreated flashed before him. "What do you mean?" he asked the worry evident in this voice.

Achilla retold of what had happened in Agamemnon's tent and how Briseis had called her and Achilles off when they tried to rescue her.

Hector started to pace, horrified and physically sick thinking of what could be happening to his dear cousin. Remembering what Helen told them Agamemnon tried to do to Achilla caused him to pale. "Queen Achilla," he stopped in front of her and looked her in the eye.

Achilla chuckled at her title. It sounded foreign coming from him. "Achilla if you please," her smile growing as Hector's beautiful face lit up.

"Do you think you could help her?" he asked pleadingly, his deep brown eyes begging her to help.

Achilla knew those eyes were going to be the death of her. The funny thing was she seemed to not mind. Achilla's hands found there way to Hector's smooth cheeks as she grasped his face. "I don't think you have to worry," she paused to look at his lips, "My brother seems taken with your cousin and I can almost guarantee he is rescuing her right now."

Hector hardly heard a word she had said after her hands touched him. Her touch was soft, her calloused war hands like silk. Though realizing what she said, he couldn't help but frown. "What do you mean your brother is taken with her? He has no idea who she is," he hissed pulling away defensively.

Achilla's hands dropped to her sides and sighed at his evident anger. "She is safer with him than any man you could place her with." Her defences were up knowing he didn't approve of her brother's evident affection for the priestess. She knew she shouldn't blame Hector, she could only imagine how this must sound.

Hector's eyes blazed in shock that she could even think such a thing. "Your brother is a killer and she is splendour of war. He will use her for his own purposes and toss her in the dirt when he has had his fill," he accused angrily, his finger pointed in her face.

Achilla's fists clenched and her eyes blazed intensely. "You Prince know nothing of my brother. He is a killer yes, but he dose not mistreat woman, no matter who they are," she hissed in a cool, calm voice that only indicated death to those who pushed too far.

Sensing her hostility, Hector took a deep breath. "Can you ensure me you brother will not harm her?" he asked calmly trying to defuse the situation.

It was too late for Achilla; the damage was done. "He will not. He has never, ever looked at anyone the way he looks at her and he sure as hell has never given a damn about a captured woman before enough to threaten Agamemnon himself," she replied, her still icy tone evident.

Hector found himself believing her and nodded in defeat. "I am sorry, but you cannot blame me for my concern for my dear cousin," he reasoned.

Achilla decided she had enough, it was dark and Achilles was probably half way to Troy ready to burn it to the ground thinking the worst. "And mine for my brother," she replied monotone as she started to back away.

Hector felt himself begin to panic. "Please, don't go," he asked taking a step forward for everyone she took back, instinctively reaching out for her.

Achilla glared causing Hector to stop. "I promise to guard your cousin until I am able to return her to you, but not from my brother should she welcome his attention. Goodnight Prince Hector." And before he could even respond she had spun around and ran away.

Watching as she disappeared into the night, Hector stood there and waited for her smell to leave the air before he returned to the Palace, his mind consumed with thoughts and images of the Queen who had mysteriously captured his heart.

Achilla walked aimlessly back to the Greek camps, her mind consumed with Hector. She knew she couldn't blame him for his concern for his cousin, after all she was a prisoner in their camp; perhaps telling him of her brother's obvious affections was not the best idea. Briseis had obviously dedicated herself to Apollo and therefore a life of celibacy. Knowing her brother's stamina and the obvious affection he had for the woman, it wouldn't take long for him to make the woman forget her vows. She herself would never swear her life to a God in such a way, the pleasures a body could experience from touch were too much.

Achilla's mind then wandered back to the Godlike Prince she had just left. She rubbed her arms where his hands had been and remembered how hot his touch was. Her body had instantly reacted and even thinking about him caused her to yearn for his touch, his calloused hands to glide over her body and pleasure her for eternity. What was she thinking? He was the Prince of Troy, future King and she the Queen of the Myrmidon's and a Greek. What future could they possibly have? Still, despite what he or the other Trojans might think of her, she knew that she would not raise her sword against them again.

As Achilla was now walking through the Greek camps, nodding at soldiers as they acknowledged her when she passed, she was brought out of her inward battle when she heard a woman's scream pierce the air. There was only one other woman in the camps that she knew of and instantly broke into a run following the continued screams.

As she got closer she heard the sounds of metal clashing and saw her brother already fighting a number of Agamemnon's soldiers with a red hot branding rod. Her face scowled in rage when she saw two soldiers creeping up on Achilles back. They were asking to die.

Unsheathing her sword, Achilla leaped through the air, her foot connecting with the closest soldiers head knocking him into the man next to him to the ground before he could plunge his sword into Achilles back.

As the man Achilla hit stumbled, she wasted no time in plunging her sword into his gut while kicking her leg into the face of the other who was picking himself up, the cracking of his nose and scream of pain filling the air.

Achilla removed her sword from the soldier not bothered as he crumbled to the ground and brought it to the face of the man groaning on the ground as he held his bleeding nose. She looked up to see the other guards backing away as Achilles scooped up a frightened Briseis and nodded to her as he moved past.

Achilla looked down at the soldier who was still under her sword. "If you…" she spoke low and dangerously while glancing around at the other soldiers, "any of you, so much as breathe in her direction, your lives will not be spared as they were this time. And if you so much as think of raising a sword against my brother or any Myrmidon again, you will be screaming for me to end your life," she snarled as she pushed the tip of her sword slightly into the neck of the man under her to prove her point.

Once she received a number of nods, she withdrew her weapon and stacked off to Achilles tent to make sure Briseis was unharmed, for if she was or Agamemnon did what she prayed he didn't, more people were going to die, starting with him.

Patroclus and Eudorus along with various other Myrmidons, were all standing outside Achilles tent in confusion when they saw Achilla approach.

Patroclus immediately pushed his way through the group of men. "Achilla!" he yelled as he trotted up to meet her.

Achilla just looked at Patroclus still infuriated with him. "Yes?" she replied icily as she continued walking.

Patroclus looked at the bloody sword in her hand as he fell into step next to her. "Care to explain what is going on and why there is blood on your sword?" he asked nodding down to her blade.

Achilla walked up to the group of men outside Achilles hut and handed her sword wordlessly to Eudorus who eyed her in confusion. "Achilles, I guess went to get the woman from Agamemnon's soldiers and they thought it would be a good idea to try and resist," she said dryly nodding her thanks as Eudorus took it immediately understanding.

Ignoring her men's threats of death to Agamemnon's men for threatening their King and Queen, Achilla pushed the flap aside and entered the hut to see a crouching Achilles fling a wet rage in Briseis face.

"I do not think that is the best way to win her over brother," she said with irritation as she walked up to the two and chuckled when Briseis threw said cloth back in her brother's face. How she liked this woman she mused.

Achilles spun around to see his sister. "Where were you?" he demanded completely ignoring her question as he stood to face her, tossing the cloth Briseis had thrown back at him in the basin.

Achilla scowled at her brother before she crouched down in front of Briseis, pleased she didn't flinch away when she cupped her cheek. Achilla's eyes blazed in fury when she inspected Briseis' face; her left cheek was swollen with a small cut on her cheek bone and had a cut on her upper lip. Crawling to the basin of cold water, Achilla wrung out the cool cloth, crawled back and held it to Briseis' lip.

Briseis flinched slightly at the pressure on her lip but sighed when she felt the relief the cold brought to her burning face. "Thank you," she said softly not meeting Achilla's eyes.

Achilla brought Briseis hand up to hold the cloth, trying to hold down her anger when she inspected the raw skin on her wrists. "Did Agamemnon harm you?" she asked darkly.

Briseis looked at Achilla then to Achilles who stood directly behind his sister with his arms crossed waiting for her answer. Looking back at Achilla, she shook her head. "He didn't touch me if that's what you are asking."

Both Achilles and Achilla let out a breath they had been holding. "Oh good," Achilla said leaning back.

Achilles crouched down next to Achilla and took the cloth from Briseis and re-soaked it in the basin next to him and brought it back to her cheek.

Achilla just stilled as she watched Achilles tenderly wipe the dirt away from Briseis' face. She was fully convinced now that somehow within the past few days the little priestess had captured her brother's attention. She had never seen Achilles so affectionate with any woman other than her and his mother.

Feeling as if she were intruding, Achilla slowly backed away and exited the tent leaving her brother to woo the virgin priestess.

_Okay, whatcha think? _


	8. Chapter 8

_Soft brown curls wrapped perfectly around her slender fingers as they weaved through while__ a warm mouth trialed kisses in torture down her neck, slowly tracing her collarbone as experienced hands moved over her breasts then down her body in exploration…_

"ACHILLA!"

Achilla groaned in frustration and rolled over on her pallet, her back facing the entrance, in an attempt to return to her erotic dream.

"Achilla, I know you are in there," Odysseus yelled again and a moment later barged into her hut not caring if she was indecent.

Achilla growled in annoyance and sat up, grateful she had slept in her clothes as her blankets pooled in her lap. She had been so tired the night before she had only removed her armour and instantly fallen asleep when her head hit her bed.

"Care to use your fancy words to convince me not to kill you right now?" she asked with a scowl, running her fingers through her blond locks. She knew he would come but the wakeup call was uncalled for and her mood was instantly soured. "I was having a really good dream," she said dryly, ever grateful that she was not one to blush as images from her dream flashed before her eyes.

Odysseus ignored her threat and glared murder at the Myrmidon Queen. "Why did you not fight yesterday?" he demanded through gritted teeth. He had tried to talk to Achilles but the man would not see him for he was too "busy" with the Trojan woman. That only fuelled his rage and now he was going to take it out on Achilla.

Achilla sighed angrily and flung the covers off her and stood. There was no way she could return to her dream now and she was beyond angry by that fact alone. "You know why Odysseus," she stated, her voice calm and cool as she went to her wash basin and stared to wash her face and body not caring that Odysseus was watching.

"Achilla, you condemn all Greeks to death because of your dispute with one man?" he yelled in disbelief. He had never been more enraged in all his life. Seeing the faces of his dying men who had fallen at the hands of Hector had haunted his dreams the entire night. He could still hear their pain filled screams and it made him shutter.

Achilla just washed her body in silence trying to control the rage she felt growing. "You dare to come in here uninvited and question me?" she asked lowly, turning slowly, her body dripping with water.

Odysseus just glared at her unaffected by her tone and glare.

Achilla returned his accusing glare and clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "I suggest you leave my presence now, King Odysseus," she snarled shaking her chin to the entrance.

The use of his title only infuriated him more. "Do not dismiss me Goddess," he hissed, watching as the flames ignited in her blue eyes.

Achilla hated it when people referred to her as a Goddess. She was anything but. Goddess' were pure, righteous and beautiful. What was she? nothing but a killer with a fancy title and used as a weapon of war. Her nostrils flared in rage as she flung Odysseus aside and stormed out of her hut before she killed her friend.

Patroclus and Eudorus were sparring and lowered their weapons when they saw Achilla storm past them, a look of pure rage on her beautiful face.

Patroclus was still angry with his cousin and only watched her walk away before turning back to Eudorus, holding up his sword for the older man to strike.

Eudorus, however, ignored the boy and stood where he was watching as Odysseus immerged from Achilla's hut with an equally enraged look on his face and stormed after Achilla.

Patroclus scowled as Eudorus continued to ignore him and smacked his sword that lay at the older man's side "Fight me," he ordered, his body in a defensive stance.

Eudorus glared at Patroclus and sheathed his sword wordlessly as he walked past him to watch his Queen as she argued with Odysseus. He did not like the look on either's face.

Achilla walked into the water to her knees hopping the cold would seep into her veins to cool the burning anger flowing through her and closed her eyes, the breeze blowing her unruly curls behind her, as she attempted to quell her growing rage.

"Achilla, I am not done with you," Odysseus' voice bellowed, the sounds of his feet sloshing through the water only intensifying her anger.

"Well I am done with you Odysseus," she spat twirling around to face him no longer containing her boiling anger.

Odysseus cared not for her blazing eyes and thrust his hand in the direction of his and the other Greek camps. "Those men are mourning the loss of their brothers because you and Achilles did not and will not fight," he yelled not caring at the gathering of men who stood watching.

Achilla unleashed her fury. "They," she pointed to her men, "are all I care about," she yelled back. "You made your choice where you stand and I have made mine," she finished crossing her arms, her face set.

Odysseus stood silent, the waves crashing around their legs as he looked at Achilla confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked praying to the Gods she was not saying what he thought she was.

Achilla nodded to where Agamemnon's ship was beached. "He will no long order me around. These Trojans do not deserve to die and I refuse to be a part of it. My reasons for fighting are no longer a concern; therefore, there is no reason to stay," she stated calmly, not bothering to tame the wild hair that blew around her face.

Odysseus' face turned red in blind fury. "You care nothing for your people? You care more about the Trojans then us? Then me?" yelled in disbelief, the hurt evident on his face.

Achilla was determined to stand her ground and shook her head. "I care for you Odysseus, as if you were another brother," she said softly her eyes conveying her honestly.

Odysseus took a deep breath to control his emotions and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Then fight for me, with me," he pleaded his eyes searching hers for any hope his words would prove fruitful.

Achilla looked at her friend sadly. "You choose to fight in a war for the wrong reasons Odysseus. I, however, refuse to be a part of it," her tone was hard and indicated the conversation was over. She detested fighting with Odysseus and her nerves were next to nonexistent.

Patroclus stood next to Eudorus with the rest of the Myrmidon army as they listened to the two fighting. He agreed with Odysseus and was enraged that his cousin could so easily toss the lives of the Greeks aside as if they were nothing but the grains of sand at her feet.

Eudorus, on the other hand, had mixed feelings regarding her and Achilles decision not to fight. He didn't like to see his fellow Greeks slaughtered when they could have in fact prevented it, but, he shared the same hatred for Agamemnon and thought this war was frivolous.

Eudorus battled whether to summon Achilles to put a stop to the fight before it turned bloody. He did not like the look on his Queen's face. He cared for her more than just a Queen, she was his friend and he did not like Odysseus angering her. The sight of Odysseus grabbing Achilla made his decision and he stalked off towards Achilles tent in a fury.

Achilles had never in his entire life felt as he did at this moment. The beautiful woman who was held protectively in his arms was almost too good to be true.

Her firm breast were pushed into his chest, their legs intertwined, his hand running soothingly up and down her spine as he watched her sleep. His growing desires for her only intensified the more he touched her but he had to control it, for now.

He had not experienced the pleasures this virgin priestess gave him the night before in all his life. Her inexperience hands and mouth had done things to him he never thought possible. He was bewitched, body and soul. This woman would forever be his and he would die before letting anyone take her from him. With those thoughts, he instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her and kissed the top of her hair, smiling as she moaned and snuggled more into him.

Eudorus stormed into Achilles hut not caring the state his King would be in. What he did see was not what he was expecting. Achilles lay with the Trojan woman in his arms with a look on his face unlike one the lieutenant had never seen given to another woman, not even his sister.

Achilles, who was facing the entrance, looked up and glared in warning at Eudorus. "What?" he hissed quietly. He had openly ignored Odysseus all morning and if this was not a life and death matter, he would continue to ignore everyone else for the only person who mattered at the moment was the woman in his arms.

Eudorus had to shake his head to focus. "You best come out Sire," he said hurriedly, nodding behind him in the direction of the beach. "There is a problem between Achilla and Odysseus and I think you should put a stop to it." His eyes bore into Achilles letting his King know that she needed him, now.

The look of concern on Eudorus' face only spurred Achilles on as he unwound himself as carefully and quickly as he could from the sleeping woman in his arms. Achilla was the only exception to his earlier thoughts. He was going to pummel Odysseus.

Eudorus' eyes widened as Achilles jumped from the bed nude and quickly spun around. "I will meet you outside," he mumbled and exited the hut.

Briseis, feeling the cold on her body opened groggy eyes, an instant smile forming as she watched Achilles magnificent naked body search for his clothing.

"Morning," she said softly only to frown when Achilles found his clothing and dressed in silence. Surely he was not going to dismiss her now that he had gotten what he wanted from her? She had tried to resist him, but it was impossible as it was impossible for her not to breathe. She bit her lip and sat up clutching the black silk sheet to her chest. "Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly.

Achilles, who was fully dressed, handed Briseis a bundle of clothing and kissed her lips softly. "Just something I need to take care of," he said softly as he ran his hands through her brown hair. "I will return shortly," he whispered huskily, his eyes glazing over with want.

Briseis felt a sense of relief wash over and smiled eagerly having understood his look as she nodded for him to go.

Odysseus roared with rage and wanted to shake her. Grabbing Achilla's forearms in a tight grip, he did just that. "Why do you condemn them to death?" he yelled trying to understand her real reasons. Agamemnon had insulted her before and she took it in stride, but this was another side he had never seen.

Achilla growled and shoved him with such force, Odysseus barley held himself up from tumbling over. "You condemn them to death when you follow Agamemnon like a dog," she yelled. She knew her words were hurtful, but she no longer cared.

Odysseus' eyes widened at the insult. "What would you propose I do, hmmm?" he hissed. "Agamemnon would burn my Kingdom to the ground if I defied him. You are sealing that fate for yours if you continue to defy him," he exclaimed as he pointed to her men who were all lined on the beach listening to them.

Achilla shook her head. "No Odysseus," she said with a confident smile on her face. "Agamemnon manipulated my father into submission. Agamemnon will feel my fury should he chose to even attempt to march on my land," she said in oath, her chin held high. "He begs for us, for our swords. Right now you claim the fate of the war rests on our shoulders and you think we fear his wrath?" she questioned knowing there was no answer Odysseus could give to her question.

Odysseus frowned, his shoulders starting to slump in defeat. "Ithaca cannot afford an enemy like Agamemnon."

Achilla just stared into Odysseus' face. Would he really think she would let his Kingdom fall? "You have no need to fear him," she replied confidently.

Odysseus cocked his head to the side mockingly. "Not all of us fear nothing as you and your brother do. That is your problem, you think you are invincible to him," he pointed to Agamemnon's ship. "Shouldn't the knowledge that he has all the Kings of Greece under his thumb tell you something?" He knew this conversation was pointless. He had never seen her face so determined and he knew that no words could be spoken that would change her mind.

Achilla let out a cynical chuckle. "Yeah, that all the Kings of Greece are snivelling swine's…My King, being the only exception," she said triumphantly.

When Odysseus remained silent, she knew she had won and decided to squash the argument. "I fight for mine. I fight for a right reason and not where and when I am ordered," she sneered and started to stalk out of the water towards her men and stood in front of them as their leader. "Agamemnon is leading the Greeks astray. His thirst for power and madness will lead to the downfall of Greece if we continue to follow him. I refuse to follow a path that will only lead to the destruction of my people. I refuse to sacrifice my men for such madness," her voice rang out over the water as if she were a Goddess, her head high glaring at Odysseus to question her leadership.

Odysseus wadded towards her in a fury. "You speak of treason," he rebuked. "You would side with the Trojans over your own?" he yelled waving his hands in the direction of Troy.

"ODYSSEUS!"

The Myrmidons parted for a very angry Achilles and satisfied Eudorus, as the King stalked towards the quarrelling pair. "You dare insult my sister?" he asked, his voice as cold as ice. He had heard parts of their conversation and hid his surprise at the words that came from his sister's mouth.

Odysseus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and looked to Achilles as he stood protectively next to his sister. "Achilles," he said through gritted teeth, trying to contain his anger, "I understand you are angry with Agamemnon, he has disrespected you enough. He may be a proud King but he knows when he has made a mistake."

Achilla huffed. "I doubt that," she said darkly.

Achilles shook his head indifferent to Odysseus' plea. "If Agamemnon wants my help, he can come, get down on his hands and knees and beg me himself," he finished with a satisfied smirk on his face. Agamemnon would never do such a thing.

Odysseus shook his head and pleaded his eyes to Achilles. "We need you Achilles, Greece needs you."

Achilla glanced slightly up at her brother out of the corner of her eye worried that he might fall victim to Odysseus' manipulations.

Achilles remained unfazed by his words. "Greece got along fine before me, it will get along fine without me," he replied dryly.

Odysseus was stunned. "I am not talking about land. I am talking about the men. They look up to you Achilles," he looked to Achilla, "both of you." He paused as he turned back to focus on Achilles, "You were born for this war."

Achilla had fully turned to face her brother speechless at what she was seeing. He was shaking his head 'no'. She smiled at his change, her mind making a note to kiss the little priestess for she knew that the woman was the one responsible for said change.

Odysseus' face took a look of defeat. "It's amazing how woman have a way of complicating things," he sighed knowingly with a slight smile as he looked at Achilla. He really did not want to fight with her, but he was so enraged it got the better of him. What she said made sense in a way, but he could not turn his back on Greece.

Achilla sighed tiredly and looked back to Odysseus. "My friend, I do not wish to fight with you. Out of all the Kings, you are the only one who can say he has our respect." She walked to him and cupped his cheek and smiled her infectious smile. "But we can no longer be his servants," she stated as she stepped back next to her brother.

Odysseus stared into her blue eyes and nodded his head. "Sometimes my friend we need to be servants in order to lead," he said softly and walked away wondering what was to come.

Achilla stood and watched Odysseus' retreating form with a mixture of sadness and anger. She did not like fighting with him and it saddened her that he chose to fight against her. Achilles put his hand on his sister's shoulder and held her when she curled into his chest.

The men, realizing it was a time to give them privacy, left leaving only Eudorus and Patroclus as they stood watching the King comfort his sister.

Achilles pulled his sister and held her at arms length. "I stand by my words," she said before he could say anything. She did not know if he would support her entirely, but she was not going to sway in her decision.

Achilles ran his fingers through her hair, pushing stray strands behind her ears and smiled when she looked at him confused. "You are too smart for us," he teased.

Achilla's heart swelled as she laughed and leaned her forehead against Achilles chest, sighing as he rubbed her back. He would stand by her.

Eudorus looked at Achilles then Achilla. "I stand by you my Queen," he stated stepping towards her. He didn't know why he said it, but he felt he needed to reassure her that he and the men would follow her and Achilles dutifully. They had always made their men feel as equals, fighting alongside them, shedding blood with them and never once had they led them astray. He would follow them to Hades and back if need be.

Achilles smiled proudly at his lieutenant.

Achilla turned out of Achilles embrace and cupped Eudorus' cheeks, kissing each one and smiling at his slight blush. "You are a good, loyal friend Eudorus," she said softly. She had known Eudorus her whole life and could have never asked for a better man to stand with them. "I thank you for your allegiance and trust, and I am proud to call you friend."

Eudorus' chest puffed out with pride as he looked up to see Achilles nod his head in agreement. Not trusting his voice, Eudorus bowed his head and beamed at his young Queen.

Patroclus, who had been silent the entire time, could no longer contain himself. "So, are we just going to leave now?" he asked, his voice laced with the anger he felt for the decision.

Achilla turned to Achilles who had looked back to his hut. She knew he wouldn't leave without Briseis. The look on his face was confirmation enough. She only wondered what the priestess thought of that.

"We will," he replied not looking at his snivelling cousin.

Patroclus shook his head in anger. "Greeks are dying and we are going to sail home?" he barked in disbelief, his voice slightly rising.

Achilles' head turned to his cousin unaffected by his tone. He didn't care. He was tired of this conversation. "There will always be wars to fight where Greeks will die. There is nothing we can do about it."

Patroclus' blood flowed to his face in rage. "You would betray our countrymen all so you can see Agamemnon fall?" he yelled still disregarding the logic behind his cousins' decision.

Achilla leaned into Patroclus, her eyes blazing for his lack of respect, causing him to take a step back. "Someone always has to lose cousin, it's time he did," she hissed.

Patroclus just stared at her, his fists clenching at his sides attempting to form a plausible argument.

"Agamemnon has waged an unnecessary war Patroclus," Achilla continued in another attempt to try and reason with her hard-headed cousin. "You saw yesterday, the men dyeing. Perhaps you should ask yourself 'why' before you are so ready to pick up a sword and take the life of a man who is doing nothing more than protecting a home which rightfully belongs to him," she scolded, her eyes looking down at him. She was tired of this argument as well and wanted nothing more than throw him on their ship and sail him home just to put an end to his nonsense.

Achilles and Eudorus just stared at Achilla in awe at her ability to always put men in their place as they stood on either side of her proudly.

Patroclus looked between the three with a scowl before he growled under his breath and stomped off like a spoiled child who was not getting what he wanted.

Achilla turned to Achilles and was about to say something when she stopped and stared behind him.

"Achilles?"

Achilles and Eudorus turned around, a smile immediately forming on Achilles face as he saw the vision before him.

Briseis was beautiful, even with the bruises that covered her face. Her brown hair blowing around her like a veil, the simple dark blue linen she had used to warp around her body made her look like a delicate flower.

There was no way Achilla was going to get her brother's attention now and sighed tiredly, her thumb and forefinger rubbing her eyes. "Go on," she said waving to Briseis with her other hand, her head down. She was exhausted.

Achilles turned back to face his sister his smile fading when she didn't meet his eyes. Cupping her chin so she would look at him, he frowned as he searched her tired eyes. "Are you sure sister?" he asked unsure of what he knew her answer would be. He wouldn't hesitate to stay with her should she need him.

Achilla looked past him to Briseis who stood a few paces away from them looking around nervously. Flashing the woman a warm smile she returned her attention to Achilles and gave him a gentle, affectionate pat on his chest. "She is beautiful brother, go to her," she said softly her smile not reaching her eyes.

Achilles sighed and kissed his sister on her forehead, pulling her to him tightly. "Come find me should you need me," he said sternly as she pulled away.

Achilla nodded and watched her brother wrap his arm around Briseis and walk her back to his hut, a knowing smirk plastered on his face.

Eudorus too was watching Achilles and turned to Achilla. "He cares for her," he stated.

Achilla nodded and turned to face the open sea. "More than I ever thought he would," she said quietly, her face betraying her.

"What is wrong Achilla?" Eudorus asked noticing the worried look on her face. When they were alone, there was no need for tittles between the two.

"I am happy for him Eudorus," she sighed, turning to face her friend. "Briseis has brought a change in my brother that is only for the better but I fear for his heart when we leave," she exclaimed turning to look back out at the blanket of blue that was glistening in the sun.

Eudorus nodded in understanding. "You fear she may not want to leave and he will force her?" he asked already knowing the answer.

Achilla continued to stare out at the ocean, her face set in stone as she tried to control her thoughts. "I do. He will not let her go should she wish to stay," she stated.

Eudorus cupped Achilla's shoulder in comfort. She was so young and held the world on her shoulders. "Worry not my Queen," he said softy. "Perhaps she will be eager to leave with him," he said hopeful. He knew the chances of that were slim. The girl was a captive and therefore it would be hard to know what her true feelings were.

Achilla patted Eudorus' hand and looked at him fondly. "I hope so," she replied softly, grateful for his comfort.

Taking a deep breath, Achilla felt anxious and emotionally drained. "Eudorus, I am going to go for a walk," she nodded down the beach in the opposite direction of the camp. "I am afraid there are too many men around and I need some time alone before I go mad," she said with a slight grin on her face.

Eudorus chuckled and nodded in understanding. "Then I shall leave you for I do not wish to be the reason for such madness," he replied and walked back towards the camp after giving her a brotherly kiss on her cheek.

Achilla spent the rest of the day and well into the night walking down the beaches of Troy and gazing at the lush countryside, her mind tormenting her as she replayed her encounter with Hector and her argument with Odysseus.

She was frustrated that Odysseus was so misguided and close-minded. She knew that Odysseus shared her loathing for the King, but he lacked the confidence to stand up to Agamemnon. If only he would see. See that Agamemnon was not a God that was invincible and immortal, but a man of flesh and blood, a man who could be beaten. Who was she kidding? It would take more than Phtia to defeat Agamemnon, but with Troy...

Achilla picked up a handful of stones and started to toss them into the sea. If they were to join Troy, she was certain Agamemnon could be defeated. The sound of the crashing waves against the jagged rocks eased her mind as she pondered the impossible. For it was impossible, Achilles she may be able to sway now that Briseis was in his life, but the others? She didn't think she could ask her men to go against their countrymen. But she had had more than enough of Agamemnon. No one really knew just how much she hated the man, not even Achilles, nor did they realise just how much self-control she had. Even being in the same room as Agamemnon exhausted her for she had to think of the consequences if she was to kill him in cold blood. Not that she cared about herself; she would gladly die if she was able to end the cursed man's life with her own bare hands. It would have been worth it all. But she had Achilles and Patroclus, she couldn't just leave them.

Wiping her hands together after she had tossed the stones, Achilla just stood with her arms crossed and watched the moon illuminate off the water as her mind wandered to Hector, the Prince who haunted her dreams and plagued her mind. She had no doubt he was an honourable man, the way he fought for his country would tell her that even if they hadn't met. He stood at the front of the lines leading his men faithfully, not standing at a safe distant; he even braved Achilles himself. That alone was something most men did not attempt willingly unless suicide was their only motive.

Achilla sighed sadly, turned and walked slowly back to camp. She had no desire to return, being there only made her feel even guiltier about intruding on Trojan soil. Scanning around, Achilla managed to find a flat rock surface she could lay on and gaze up at the stars.

As she lay there, on arm under her head, her mind again betrayed her as she remembered Hector's intense, deep brown eyes that held such passion and wisdom as he tried to reason with her and Achilles at the temple. She had instantly felt her body ignite then as he looked her over and again to the point of pain when they had met the previous evening. It was as if there was an invisible rope pulling her to him, something she knew she could not ignore if they were alone again. She scolded herself for thinking such things about him, she would only ruin herself for again she knew there was no possible way he could ever love her. What could he love about someone like her? She was his enemy first and foremost, then a Greek, a deadly weapon and had a brother who would kill Hector before even considering letting him love her.

All this was too much for the young Queen and she felt a lump form in her throat as her emotions started to get the best of her. She was glad she was alone as a few tears streamed down the sides of her eyes. She could never let her emotions get the better of her, for she had to be strong for her people, her brother and cousin. But when she found herself alone like she did now, these were the times when everything came crashing down on her. Times when so tortured herself with memories and regrets, a childhood and family stolen, the unnecessary deaths of innocent men, and now a love she couldn't have.

Achilles longed to touch her, the desire was too overwhelming, but settled for fingering a strand of her long, silky brown hair, the curl naturally wrapping around his finger. He had hardly left his hut after he had left Achilla that morning and part of him wondered what she was doing. He felt a pang of guilt for leaving her for so long and not checking on her. She had to deal with Patroclus and Odysseus all on her own and he could only imagine what it was doing to her.

He was still mulling over what she said about Agamemnon and the decision she made. He had never heard her speak his name with such hate and loathing it made him wonder if there was something he didn't know. He wondered why now though. Why did she decided to stand up to Agamemnon now, defy him in a way that would only lead to war? He didn't care about that, he was confident about his army but he wondered what brought it all on. His lips started to curl down as he realized that there were too many questions he had and she knew something he didn't. She was taking too much on herself.

The warm body snuggling closer to him brought his attention back to her and the now open brown eyes staring at him, his previous thoughts immediately being forgotten as he gave her a chaste kiss.

"Do you ever sleep?" Briseis asked lazily, bringing her hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

Achilles grinned mischievously and kissed her neck, nipping her collarbone softly and grinning as she moaned in pleasure.

"How can you expect me to sleep when I have you lying in my arms?" he replied as he pulled away and looked into her eyes that were glazed with lust.

Briseis blushed and pushed down her desires. "What is to become of us Achilles?" she whispered not wanting to say the words but also being unable not to.

Achilles sighed tiredly and ran his hands gently up and down her exposed arm. "Would you leave Troy?" he asked quietly, not daring enough to look in her eyes.

"Would you leave this war?" Briseis replied. She knew the life he led, the blood that stained his sword from the countless men he had killed, all of which surprisingly meant nothing to her. She cared for him, all of him she could almost call it love. She knew that she would follow him anywhere, but not if he didn't abandon this war.

Achilles looked into her eyes and nodded. "I would, for you I would do anything." He surprised himself knowing that he did in fact mean that. Briseis had pierced his heart the moment her intense eyes had challenged him and sealed her place when she had slapped him for attempting to touch her. He still found the memory amusing.

Briseis' smile split her face and she leaned in to capture his lips, their bodies speaking for them the love that they had for one another.

_Okay, whatcha think? _

_Thank you to all my reviewers, keeps me flowin._


	9. Chapter 9

_Goodness, so sorry it took me so long to get this out. Many t__hanks to james-louise, Maddsy, carolineaJuliette, and bellyboop for your reviews. I hope you all like this chapter._

Achilla hadn't realized she had drifted off to sleep, she couldn't even remember closing her eyes, but the sounds that filled the early morning air jolted her body violently forcing her to make an attempt to decipher if what she was hearing was reality or a dream.

Rubbing her strained tired eyes, Achilla took in a deep breath of the fresh sea air and strained her ears, her body becoming more coherent as she started to process her surroundings. Once the sounds that pierced the air became clear, her eyes widened and a shiver waved down her spine. The smell of smoke suddenly filled her lungs as she realized the clashing of metal, the screaming men only met one thing: the Trojans had attacked.

Jumping to her feet, Achilla stopped herself mid-step as her first reaction was to run to her sword and help her fellow countrymen. Recalling the decisions she had made the previous day, she felt herself contemplating that decision and began to pace in order to keep the warrior demon inside her at bay. She was in utter turmoil while she battled with herself. She knew her men wouldn't fight and she knew that Hector wouldn't attack them since she had made it quite clear that they were not a threat. But the will was still there, the urge to defend when being attacked even if it wasn't directed towards her. They could burn Agamemnon for all she cared, but did everyone deserve to die? She didn't think so.

As time slowly passed, Achilla was now gnawing on her nails, twitching as her nerves started to become almost unbearable. The increasing sounds of battle, piercing screams of death made her cringe and increase the speed of her pacing. This was torture for her as she thought of Odysseus and his men fighting, hoping the screams weren't coming from them.

Then a different sound reached her ears, as sound that forced her steps to cease, her blood to run cold, her stomach to tingle with fear, and her heart to pound at such a speed she thought she would collapse.

"Myrmidons, Myrmidons, Myrmidons!"

Instantly, Achilla broke into a run as her mind attempted to figure out why her brother would be leading their army without her, or leading them at all in the first place. They were far enough from the Greek camps to distinguish who they were and where they placed themselves among the other Greeks. The only logical conclusion she could come up with was that Hector's army had attacked the Myrmidons. If that was indeed the case, well…she would join them and protect her men without second thoughts. As she jumped down an embankment and started racing down the smooth stretch of beach she hopped that she could find Hector and perhaps put a stop to all of this.

Hector heard the chant and snapped his head up as he removed his sword form the gut of his fallen foe. When his eyes met the form of Achilles, the man trotting up to battle with ease as his infamous men dressed in their signature black raised their swords in glee while they trotted faithfully behind him, he felt all colour drain from his face. "No…" he whispered to himself as he scanned the men for the woman he didn't now if he would be able to kill should he have to. He did not care about the others, was that not the reason why Achilles had come in the first place, to kill him? But Achilla, he couldn't kill them, Achilles, for her sake. As he scanned the men a second time, his eyes widened when he realized she was not among them. Her silver helmet was not glistening in the sun as it blinded the men who got caught up in the blinding beam.

As he blocked another feeble attempt to best him, he immediately began to worry for her and wondered where she was, but at the same time a sense of relief flooded his system knowing that he wouldn't have to face her in battle nor would she be in harms way. But still, why were they attacking without her? As the man he was fighting lay at his feet, he caught sight of Achilles making his way to him, their bodies beaconing to each other as if the very outcome of the war would be determined by these two men, the two most feared and respected leaders. Taking in a deep breath, Hector raised his sword in the air and let out a fierce battle cry which his men returned as he quickened his steps to meet the man who was falling Trojans with ease.

Achilla skidded to a halt when she reached her camp and spun around as she scanned her surroundings. None of her men were lounging around their fire pits, none were resting in the morning sun, but what sent her over the edge was when she saw there were no signs of the Trojans attacking. Achilla clenched her jaw as her body started to shake with rage. Why were they fighting? It just didn't make sense to her. They would not fight without orders, ever, and Achilles would never lead them without her. Would he?

Running towards Achilles hut, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw his shield and spear lying against it. He would never leave without his shield. Then who is leading her men she thought as she stood stalk still trying to figure it out. As if she had been slapped in the face, a sick idea came to her mind as she again spun around praying that what her mind was attempting to tell her was some sick jest. Her eyes grew wide and her face paled when she could not find who she was seeking, the feeling of air being sucked out of her lungs almost caused her to collapse when the realization of where he was hit her. Painfully, it all made sense.

She wanted to yell out for Achilles but nothing escaped her lips as she made a mad dash for her hut. Throwing on her chest plate, Achilla ran out of her tent strapping her sword to her back with numb fingers as she made her way to the battle. If anyone, anyone, so much as harmed a hair on his head, she was going to kill them. Only she would get the privilege of killing her cousin when this was over. Then she was going to kill her men, Eudorus, for being so callous as to mistake a mere boy for her brother for she was sure he had deceived her men. They would laugh in Patroclus' face before taking orders from him. Achilles was not going to be pleased when he learned of this she concluded as she readied herself while she made her way to the raging battle.

Agamemnon couldn't describe the relief that flooded his body when he saw Achilles leading the Myrmidons to battle, a grin forming on his lips when he saw fear in a few of the Trojan's eyes when they realized what this meant. He and Nestor though shared a confused look when they noticed that Achilla was not among the mass of black men, her small form and blond hair sticking out from under her helmet usually stuck out like a sore thumb but she was nowhere in sight.

Nestor was fidgeting as he listened to Agamemnon shouting orders next to him with a renewed valour. "Why do you think she is missing?" he asked unnerved that Achilla was not there. He and Agamemnon had been informed of her disagreement the previous day with Odysseus. Agamemnon had been too much of a coward to approach the Myrmidon King and Queen and attempt to right his wrongs. He had suffered dearly for his haughtiness and Nestor had been on the receiving end of his rage the evening after their pathetic loss to the Trojans.

Agamemnon let out a unconcerned grunt. "I don't care where the tramp is, as long as they are fighting." He had a gleam in his eyes that made Nestor sigh with unease.

He had been more unnerved by Achilla's words to Odysseus. The words Agamemnon had spoken just before they left for Troy had replayed over and over again: "_Achilla will most likely join the Trojans and fight against us"_. He doubted Agamemnon recalled his words for if he did his King would be more inclined to fear the Myrmidon Queen than the Trojans who currently stood defending their homeland. He figured that it was only a matter of time before the words that his King spoke proved to become true.

Agamemnon's eyes narrowed in glee as he caught sight of the woman of topic and nudged a still pondering Nestor. "The Trojans will beg for mercy now," he stated triumphantly, his head nodding in the direction where Nestor saw the form of the Myrmidon Queen run at an alarming speed towards the battle. Her black clad body with her veil of gold flowing behind her was quite the sight as the two men watched as the Myrmidon Queen threw herself into the throng of Greeks and Trojans.

Achilla pushed her way through the Greeks who were trying to make there way into the battle. For once the Greek lines were tight, where one man fell another took their place, but Achilla was possessed with overwhelming fear and rage and pushed the stunned men aside as if they weighed nothing more than a feather while she frantically screamed Patroclus' name. As more and more men registered who she was and the feral look on her beautiful face, the many men moved aside allowing her to make her way easily through the lines as they chanted her name grateful that one of their fearless leaders was once again fighting by their side.

Reaching her first Trojan, Achilla was easily able to slash her sword at his exposed neck since he was obviously momentarily stunned to see her before him. She had no helmet, no other armour other than her breastplate and she could only imagine what the Trojan must have been thinking when he saw a woman running at him.

Achilla didn't care.

She was getting frantic as she effortlessly removed limbs and ended lives of those stupid enough to attack her and continued to scream out her cousin's name in desperation. Then she heard it, the name of her brother being chanted and felt as if her heart had stopped. Stopping to scan around, she saw as the Trojans and Greeks all seemed to stop fighting and were trying to push their way through a mob of bodies to see something. 'No' she screamed to herself. Reigning in the fear that consumed her, Achilla bolted into the mob praying her fears were not going to be a reality.

Odysseus was worried as he watched Achilles and Hector surround each other. Something was not right. He realized that now. He should have known when he noticed Achilles leading his men without Achilla. He would never lead without his sister. But he was so overcome with relief that he ignored it. Now he wished he hadn't for it was too late.

Eudorus too couldn't believe what he was seeing. Achilles strikes were weak and careless; he was stumbling under Hectors blows and his footing was pathetic. Fear consumed him as he realized that something was terribly off.

Odysseus and Eudorus continued to watch in disbelief as the Trojan Prince quickly gained the upper hand and would soon win. The two men locked eyes in horror, both thinking the same thing, this was not the Achilles they knew.

Suddenly a woman's screech interrupted the sound of battle. "MOVE…PATROCLUS!!" Achilla's frantic screams captured the attention of the two fighters, unfortunately, not fast enough.

Patroclus was worried. He knew he couldn't beat this man. He now understood what Achilla had been saying to him all along. He had been naive, underestimated Hector and had carelessly thrown himself into battle. He did not want to die. That was when he heard his cousin's voice screaming his name and relief filled his body, she would save him. But when her tone of voice became more frantic, Patroclus couldn't help but turn his head in the direction he heard it and that's when he felt the blade slice threw his neck.

It happened in slow motion, Achilla had just pushed through the men when her eyes widened in horror at the sight of a blade slicing her cousin's neck, his helmet flying from his head as blood splattered through the air. "NO!!" she screamed as she threw her body forward, dropping her sword, and catching her cousin's fallen body. She immediately pushed his head so his chin touched his chest as she lowered them to the ground and cradled Patroclus in her lap.

Hector's eyes widened at what he saw, that was not Achilles but a mere boy. Horror consumed him as his knees buckled and he dropped to the sand, his eyes unable to leave Achilla's form as she cradle the boy in her arms and attempted to save him. His frantic eyes looked up at his men who were all equally stunned then to who he knew to be Odyssues.

Odysseus felt as if he received a blow to the head when his eyes widened in understanding as he caught the sight of Patroclus' face. But when he caught sight of the tears forming in Achilla's eyes, he now felt as if he had been run through. He had rarely ever seen her cry but when he did, he felt as if he were being stabbed repeatedly. This was so much worse. Feeling eyes on him, Odysseus turned to face the stunned Prince and actually found himself feeling bad for the man. He didn't know and it was obvious by the distressed look on his face that if Hector did know, he wouldn't have fought the boy. "He is her cousin," he said painfully and watched as Hector's eyes widened and what little colour he had left in his face drained completely

Hector couldn't believe what he had just done, who this boy was. He felt his chest grow heavy, the armour feeling as if it were going to crush him, his mind turned hazy as he tried to process what was happening while he continued to watch Achilla.

Achilla felt a presence beside her but ignored it. She was aware that the battle had stopped, time had stopped. She wanted to cry, scream and kill everyone but she had to keep it together as she forced her cousin's head to stay down, hopping it would control the bleeding until she could treat it.

Patroclus was looking up at her with wide eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was in. He tried to open his mouth to speak but Achilla shook her head. "Don't talk, just lay still," she ordered as soothingly as possible. "You will be all right," she reassured trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of dying. He wasn't supposed to ever experience such fear. "Someone get me a bandage!" she screamed frantically not caring who obeyed as long as someone did.

The sound of Achilla's tortured voice pierced Hector's heart like a spear, his body instantly registered her words and quickly crawled up to her ripping the hem of his battle tunic and wordlessly handed it to her. He knew she hadn't yet realized it was him and he found himself afraid of what she was going to do when she did.

Achilla didn't say or do anything; she took the blue cloth, moved her hand that was clutching his throat and pressed it firmly to Patroclus' wound, trying her best to ignore his gurgles of pain. As her eyes rose to meet those of her cousin's and she stopped breathing. His chest was heaving, his breathing laboured as he stared at her with such sorrow and pain filled eyes she thought she would burst. He was pleading with her to save him, he was scared and so was she.

A hand on her shoulder brought her priorities crashing back to her and she turned her head up to see Odysseus' sad eyes looking down at her. Moving past him she saw the emotional wreck of Eudorus, flanked by her men who all had equally pained expressions. She cast them all such a cold, hateful look each of the men who saw it took a step back.

"Can you save him?" Odysseus asked finally finding the courage to talk. He wanted the earth to open and swallow him whole when he saw the scared look on Patroclus's face and the equally fearful look on Achilla's. He knew that the fate of the war was now going to be determined if Patroclus lived or not. For if he died, so would a part of Achilles and Achilla and Odysseus know it would be as if Ares himself would possess them for they would not rest until Troy burned.

"I don't know," Achilla snarled looking back down at Patroclus. She really didn't know. She could stitch him, but the fear of internal damage was a large concern and she didn't have that kind of extensive training. The risk of infection was also too great. The beach was no place to heal this kind of injury. Sand would be impossible to keep out of the wound and combined with the constant breeze form the ocean and cold nights, he would surely die.

Hector swallowed hard as he battled with himself to speak. "Achilla?" he addressed her softly as if he were dealing with a wild horse. The look on her face when she met his eyes actually struck fear in him when she registered who was in front of her.

"You!" she whispered in rage. Her eyes were blazed with fury as her body visibly tensed and was now shaking in anger as she tried to control it.

Hector's eyes stung under her intense glare. He could see the battle raging inside her, the urge to leap across the boy and kill him with her bare hands. "I didn't know it wasn't him," he tried to plead holding his ground under her murderous glare knowing she would know who he was referring to. If he had known it was her cousin, a mere boy, he would never have fought him and he prayed that she would know that.

Achilla was going to explode and had to clutch her eyes shut as tears streamed clean lines down her dirty cheeks. She wanted to kill Hector but at the same time she didn't. It was not his fault really. He thought Patroclus to be Achilles. One shouldn't hold grudges in battle for each warrior goes in knowing he/she could die. But she found it difficult to remember that and not hold Hector responsible. Anyone else, if it was anyone else, they would already be dead.

Hector was breaking; he couldn't stand to see her like this. "We can help him," he suggested boldly hopping it would somehow make amends for the right he felt he had wronged.

Achilla's eyes snapped open in question and stared incredulously into Hector's brown orbs that were consumed with sorrow and regret. She couldn't believe the words left his mouth nor could she believe that she was actually starting to contemplate them.

Hector watched as her eyes flashed between he and the boy and he felt a glee of hope. He made an attempt to move closer but stopped when Achilla's nostrils flared in anger, a warning not to touch the boy she still cradled in her arms. "We have the best healers at Troy. I promise he will receive the best treatment," his voice was soft as his eyes pleaded with her to trust him, to allow him to save her the pain he knew would consume her should the boy perish. He could see now that it was the same boy who had been with her on the ridge the day he had gone to her and felt all the more wretched realizing how important her cousin really was to her.

Eudorus and Odysseus quickly looked at each other as they realised that Achilla was actually considering the offer. "Absolutely not!" Odysseus yelled sternly, his voice cracking with emotion as he glared at Hector for even suggesting such a thing.

"SILENCE!" Achilla yelled, turning her blazing eyes to Odysseus then back to Hector. She couldn't believe she was considering this. Looking down at her cousin she saw that he had passed out, his face was ashen and looked as if he were death itself, but she could still feel the rising and falling of his chest as she held him in her arms. This was all getting to be too much. "AAAGGGHHH!" she cried out in a frustrated rage. "How do I know I can trust you? He would be left for dead before a Trojan would help him," she hissed, glaring frantic eyes at Hector.

Hector remained calm, his eyes focused on her holding the truth to his words. "You know you can trust me Achilla. You know I would not allow anything to happen to you or your cousin," he replied without hesitation, his voice and eyes full of truth as he nodded to the boy she held protectively.

Odysseus and Eudorus both cast each other a worried look as they watched the two stare at each other. Was there something going on that they didn't know about? How could she trust him?

Achilla stared into the eyes that still had her captivated. She knew she could trust him, but could she trust the rest of Troy? Looking down at the blood soaked bandaged and hopping her brother wouldn't kill her and every Trojan for this, she clenched her eyes shut. "I am going with you," she said through clenched teeth.

Hector nodded hiding his sigh of relief, "Done." He couldn't help the feelings that overwhelmed him knowing that she trusted him.

Eudorus eyes widen when as the words left Achilla's mouth. She was going to actually go through with this? Trust the very same Trojan who nearly killed her cousin? "My Queen, you can n—," he stopped short when she looked at him with a look he had never seen from her and he found himself wanting nothing more than to die.

Achilla was furious with Eudorus and the look she gave him told him that much as well as a promise that she would deal with him later. "Get my carriage, and don't you dare tell Achilles until I'm gone," she ordered frantically. When Eudorus hesitated, she didn't think her body could shake any more with rage. "GET IT NOW!!" she yelled, her nostrils flaring as her blue eyes pierced into him like daggers.

Eudorus blinked and swallowed the lump forming in his throat and reluctantly turned to nod to the men behind him. "You heard her...go," he snapped nodding to the direction of the camp. The men looked between him and Achilla all feeling torn, but when her stern gaze fell on them they quickly hurried to do as they were bid.

Odysseus could not believe what she was doing and looked at Achilla frantically. "You can't possibly trust this man," he yelled pointing to Hector trying to reason with her as he leaned down. He got the distinct feeling that there was something between the two and he could not fathom how or why. It all started to make him actually feel ill.

Achilla had had it and grabbed the front of Odysseus' armour bringing his face inches from her. "I can't trust any of you either," she seethed, her tone deathly low. She saw a flash of hurt in the King's eyes but she was so angry, she didn't care. "I didn't see you stopping the fight. I don't see any of you offering any means to help," she added before she flung Odysseus away and turned to Hector. "If you break your word or if he dies...no God, army or man alive will save you," her icy, cold tone sent a shiver of fear down every man's spine as her hard gaze left no room for doubt. She would personally see to the destruction of every Trojan.

Hector swallowed and nodded once while praying to any God who would listen that the boy made it. He did not care if his life was to be sacrificed but he wanted to spare Achilla from the pain and hate that would no doubt consume the young woman he had grown to care for should her cousin perish.

Not even a second later, the men had parted and Achilla's black carriage was brought to her with her two black stallions leading, their feet stomping in anticipation sensing their mistresses' distress.

Hector nodded down to the boy in Achilla's arms. "I will take him," he said softly reaching for the limp body. He could see the woman before him crumbling and there would be no way she could support the boy.

Nodding hesitantly, Achilla allowed Hector to lift Patroclus in his arm and step in the carriage as she retrieved and sheathed her sword before she too stepped in and took the rains. Turning to Odysseus and Eudorus she glared. "Tell Achilles not to come for me or Patroclus, I will send word on his progress," she ordered receiving nods from both men. "There has been enough fighting for the day, go back to the ships," she yelled, her voice echoing as it travelled down the beach as it reached the ears of a now fuming Agamemnon.

Hector turned to his lieutenant and nodded in agreement. "To Troy!" he ordered as Achilla snapped the rains and the two stallions bolted forward and took off for Troy as fast as they could go.

_Okay you know the drill. _


	10. Chapter 10

_So I know it took me sometime to update, but I just couldn't seem to get this chapter to work for me. I am still not entirely sure, but I just couldn't fiddle with it anymore so I hope you like it. _

_Thank you to all you wonderful people who took the time to review, I really appreciate your comments. _

Achilla didn't know how long it took to get to the gates of Troy, everything was a blur, only the image of her cousin remained in focus and the fact that the bleeding was only getting worse.

The minutes that it took to reach the gates seemed to be hours as they finally flew through the City at an alarming speed, the inhabitants jumping aside so as to not get trampled while they frantically tried to rationalize why the unfamiliar chariot held their most beloved Prince.

"Achilla Stop!" Hector yelled as they entered the Palace courtyard, his body jolting forward as the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

Achilla pulled on the rains sharply, the two stallions skidding to a halt before she turned to Patroclus, her face instantly draining of all colour. Her cousin was starting to turn slightly grey with death as his neck continued to bleed, the cloth held firmly to his neck now dripping with blood. Sucking in a sharp breath, she looked up with frantic blue eyes to Hector pleading with him to do something. She was about to say something to that affect when the sound of swords being drawn instantly forced the hair's on the back of her neck to prickle. Her jaw clenched as her eyes darted around the courtyard taking in the dozen's of guards who stood poised, swords drawn as they readied themselves to kill her.

Her eyes narrowed in as she quickly calculated her options. These men had no idea what she was capable of, no idea, and the fact that she was utterly distressed only meant that if they took one step towards her cousin or her with the intention to kill, she would not hesitate to kill them all. "Hector, we don't have time for this," she hissed through gritted teeth as her hands shot out to hold Patroclus' head steady in an attempt to prevent herself from drawing her own sword. She saw Hector looking around his men before he met her eyes. She knew that he could see the malice in them, the open threat that if he went back on his word or a scorned Trojan decided to take advantage of the situation, she would willingly, without any remorse, burn the Palace to the ground.

Hector took a deep breath knowing full well what bringing her to Troy would mean, but he had to do it and didn't regret it one bit. He could see the looks on his men's faces as they immediately recognized who Achilla was. He didn't care what they thought. Shifting Patroclus in his arms so he was sure the boy wouldn't fall, he turned to face his men, his deep brown eyes hard and stern, his face firm and commanding. "Stand down and get out of our way," he yelled nodding to the entrance of the Palace indicating that he was taking the Myrmidons with him.

Ignoring the murmurs of disbelief and doubt, Hector leapt from the carriage clutching Patroclus to him tightly, Achilla scurrying next to him holding the boy's head as they made their way through the stone corridors to the Palace healing rooms, all the courtyard guards following.

Hector didn't even wait for Achilla to open the healing room door but delivered a swift kick swinging the door open with such force it nearly came off its hinges. Hector and Achilla were momentarily stunned as they entered the room and the smell of blood, herbs and incense instantly overwhelmed their senses. There were men everywhere, some screaming or moaning in pain, while others lay limply fighting for their lives.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the smell, Hector pushed forward his eyes scanning for an empty bed while he ignored the dead silence that instantly befell the occupants of the room as every able head turned, eyes widening as they moved between him and Achilla with disbelief. "This man is priority. I want our very best healer now!" his booming voiced echoed throughout the room.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Barley containing herself, Achilla grabbed the closest person to her who just so happened to be a young girl. "A BED!" she yelled, her piercing blue eyes swimming with emotion as she fought to cage her raging emotions.

The young girl just stood there stiffly, her eyes widening in shock as she gulped down her fear while she took a moment to recover from the intensity behind the sparkling blue eyes glaring at her. A swift shake from the woman who still had a firm grip on the front of her robes brought her back to reality and she flashed a frantic look to Hector who was looking at her just as intently.

Hector could see her fear, but right now was not the time. "Polyxena, please," he pleaded, his dark eyes and urgent voice instantly snapping the young girl into action.

Polyxena immediately understood and her body instantly disregarded all fear. Nodding to both Hector and the woman who she now realized was obviously the Queen of the Myrmidon's, she turned to scan the room for a suitable place as the Queen removed her grasp. "Take him there in the corner," she instructed while pointing to the far corner where a free cot was set up a slight distance from the others. "Tallous!" she then yelled catching the attention of an older man who stood from his bent position over a patient.

Hector immediately pushed his way through the room and placed Patroclus gently on the cot before moving out of the way when the man who Achilla assumed to be Tallous leaned over Patroclus and began removing the blood soaked cloth from his neck while barking orders at Polyxena.

It was plainly evident that every Trojan within the vicinity knew who the woman in black was and as soon as Hector stood upright, chaos instantly erupted.

"Prince Hector, you cannot be serious about this?" a tall, thin man with short brown hair snarled. A short, stout man standing next to him nodded his head in agreement as his beady eyes darted between the numb Queen and Hector.

Hector ignored them for a moment as he watched Tallous inspect Patroclus before he looked up to Achilla. She was just standing there staring down at her cousin with such a pained expression he knew his dreams would forever be haunted.

"Hector!" the man again snapped.

Hector instantly spun to face the man, his hard glare sending both men cowering when they were met with his stern, angry gaze. He was fuming with anger not wanting to deal with these pesky men and was about to open his mouth when the healing room door burst open and none other than Paris himself came storming in, a look of pure rage on his face.

Paris had nearly fallen over when word reached him that the Myrmidon Queen was brought in with Hector and not as a prisoner. He was even more enraged when he had been told that in fact their healers were working on a Myrmidon. Paris' first thought had been that it was Achilles, but that was quickly dismissed. "Hector, what is the meaning of this?" he yelled pointing to Achilla and the limp form of the young boy on the cot. Now having seen her with his own eyes, he grew even more enraged at the audacity of his brother.

Hector looked to Achilla relieved she was still ignoring everyone around her as she focused solely on her cousin. Growling with frustration when Paris repeated the question, he turned back to face his seething brother not at all affected by the younger man's attempt to intimidate him. "What does it look like Paris?" he snapped back.

The surprise on Paris' face only lasted a moment before it turned back into a scowl. "Do you know what you have done by bringing them here, her here," he yelled pointing to Achilla who was still paying no heed to anyone. "She is our enemy, she has killed countless men and you bring her here to save one worthless Greek, a Myrmidon for that matter, when there are Trojans in need of the healer," he added, his face inches from Hector's.

That's when Achilla snapped. Her head spun around so fast no one saw her move nor did they see the fist that connected with Paris' face sending him sprawling to the floor. She let out a scream of rage and went too lunged at the young Prince only to be grabbed by Hector who had quickly recovered from his shock. He was surprised by her strength as he wrapped his arms around the raging Queen, pinning her arms to her sides while holding her firmly to his chest as her legs kicked out in an attempt to hit Paris. "Achilla, you must calm down," he said softly as she continued to squirm.

Achilla could only see red as the words that flowed from Paris' mouth reached her ears. She wanted to kill him with her bare hands, slam his head against the stone floor. Her mind was quickly losing all ability to control her. She wanted Achilles, she also wanted to be home but she was here, in Troy, and had placed her cousin's life, along with her own, into the hands of the very man who threatened to take it away. Feeling said man's arms circle around her she was surprised at the overwhelming warmth that flooded her body. She was equally surprised to feel that her body started to calm and mould into his chest as she stopped squirming. Deciding she wasn't going to fight but welcome this new feeling of safety and comfort, she stood in Hector's arms staring at Paris while imagining all the various ways to torture the pathetic man on the floor.

The sound of a feeble moan from behind her brought Achilla's attention back to Patroclus. She spun her head around, still remaining in Hector's arms, and took in her cousin's appearance. He was still covered in blood and equally grey with death. Polyxena was bathing his wound and applying what she assumed was a disinfectant as the healer stood behind her crushing herbs and making a healing salve. She was ever grateful Hector was holding her weight for she didn't think she would be able to hold herself up as she used all available energy not to breakdown. She had to be strong.

Paris just lay sprawled out on the stone floor blinking away the black dots that clouded his vision. He couldn't believe the strength behind her hit. He had never been hit like that before, from anyone. Sitting up, Paris glared at the woman who was still being held to Hector's chest as he fingered his jaw to ensure it was not broken.

The healer who was attending to Patroclus turned to Achilla and Hector, his face set in frustration. "My Prince, I cannot work like this. Get these people out NOW!" he yelled, his blood covered hand clenched with a finger pointing to the exit of the healing room.

Hector nodded in understanding before he glared at his men, all instantly backing away stunned by the firm look in their commander's eyes.

Achilla shook her head in defiance knowing that it meant her as well. "I am not leaving him," she said firmly nodding to Patroclus.

The healer shook his head not at all caring. "Yes you are. You can wait outside if you want but the less bodies in here the better," he ordered before returning to his patient knowing that he would be obeyed.

Hector sighed when he felt Achilla's body tense with anger. "Come, let us wait outside. Tallous will take good care of him," his whispered, his voice tender and soft as he leaned into her ear.

Achilla looked up at Hector, his brown eyes reassuring, before she turned her head back to Patroclus' limp form, her teeth chewing the corner of her bottom lip as she fought the urge to disobey. She felt so helpless, lost and drained. Nodding against Hector's chest in resolve, she took a deep breath as she leaned slightly forward. "If he dies...," she let her sentence trail off and allowed the murderous glare in her eyes to speak for her as she locked in on the healer.

Polyxena looked down at the young man and then back to the woman held in Hector's arms. She was still recovering from her own shock over the situation, but despite all that, she couldn't help but feel for the young Queen who was so distraught. It was safe to assume that the young man must be awfully dear to her to warrant such reactions. Wiping her blood stained hand on her equally blood stained apron, she stood and moved to the seething woman with more confidence than she felt. "He won't," she reassured as she placed a small hand on the warrior Queen's arm.

Hector smiled at his youngest sister ever grateful for her humility and kindness as he gave Achilla's arm a comforting squeeze. He was grateful Achilla hadn't pushed him away or reacted violently towards him for holding her. The feel of her body in his arms was like a breath of fresh air, despite the circumstances. "Thank you Polyxena," he said sincerely as he met his sister's eyes.

Polyxena and Achilla held each other's eyes as they took in the other. When the Myrmidon Queen gave her a small smile, she couldn't help but return it and nod. She would do all she could for the young man and after giving Hector another smile, she returned to assisting Tallous.

With that said, Achilla pushed herself out of Hector's warm arms swallowing the shivers that went down her spine as her body missed his comforting embrace and stalked to the doors, Hector's boots clicking against the stone indicating he was right behind her. If she didn't leave now, she wouldn't.

Paris who had finally pulled himself off the floor, his hand still rubbing his extremely sore jaw, stood stunned as he watched his brother. The man seemed to have forgotten he was still in the room for all his attention was on the woman he had been holding in his arms. Paris knew the look that was in his brother's eyes, he had seen it only once before and it made him sick knowing what that look meant.

Shaking his head at the shock of what he had just witnessed, he stormed out of the healing rooms not bothering to be gentle at all as he slammed the door behind him.

As soon as Achilla exited the room, she was met with more swords in her face. "Don't you have anything better to do?" she hissed as her piercing blue eyes dared any of them to make a move. She would in fact welcome it for it would give her an excuse to distract herself from the fact she was going to explode at any moment. "There is a whole shoreline crawling with Greek soldiers and yet you are all here pointing your swords in my face?" she added as she smacked the closest sword away from her face.

Hector, who simply ignored Paris' presence behind him, held up his hand signalling for his men to stand down. "This is Queen Achilla of the Myrmidons," he introduced nodding to the seething Queen already knowing everyone in all of Troy knew who she was. "She is not our prisoner. She and her cousin will not be harmed nor will they be a threat to any of you. They are our guests and will be treated with nothing but respect," he said in his princely voice that left no room for argument as he scanned all the men daring them to question him.

With a number grumbling angrily under their breath, the soldiers nodded reluctantly and left only before they attempted to intimidate Achilla with their own glares of warning; an attempt that failed miserably.

Hector let out a tired breath as he watched the last of his men round the corner. Running a tired hand down the back of his neck, he turned and stepped towards Achilla who was just standing in the middle of the corridor staring at the blood that was caked to her hands, small delicate fingers rubbing over each one.

Achilla knew Hector was standing in front of her, she could also feel the glare Paris was giving her from the doorway, but nothing fazed her. She felt like she had been trampled by the entire Trojan and Greek army as she saw the blood that covered the hands, Patroclus' blood. It was everywhere, all over her arms, legs and armour. Raising her head ever so slightly, her eyes roamed Hector's armoured chest and took in all the blood that was staining the intricate metal. "So much blood," she murmured as she looked back down to her hands. This was just too much and she felt the lump in her throat she had forced aside forming.

Hector just stared at her feeling utterly helpless as he watched Achilla start to break. He had to fight the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms again and hold her, begging for her forgiveness.

Paris stared between the two. Finally building enough courage to approach the pair, he pushed himself away from the door he had been leaning on. "Brother, she is a danger to our people. She must be locked up," he demanded, his arms waving out towards Achilla as he made sure to keep a safe enough distance. He did not want to be hit again, his jaw was still throbbing.

Achilla had had all that she could handle and started to shake with rage. Ever so slowly, she tilted her head towards Paris, the look of pure murder in her eyes sending a wave of fear through him. "I am a danger yes, best you remember that," she said quietly as her body slowly turned to face Paris. "For you…" she pointed her finger in his face, "were the one who caused this. You were the one who brought death to your gates and mine," she seethed, her voice rising with each word as she clenched her fists so tight her nails dug into her palms to keep from killing the young Prince with her bare hands.

Hector manoeuvred to stand in between Paris and Achilla, readying himself should he need to restrain Achilla from killing his brother. He too had a wave of fear flow through his body at the look on Achilla's face and the deadly tone in her voice. "Paris, leave us," he ordered as he looked down and saw Achilla's knuckles turn white, his eyes instantly widening when he saw fresh blood dripping from them.

Paris, however, simply ignored his brother. "Do not think—," his voice caught in his throat when he took in Achilla's piercing blue eyes darkening, her body shaking in rage. He too widened his eyes when he saw the blood dripping from her hands.

Finally unable to control herself, Achilla lunged for Paris. "GET OUT OF HERE!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Hector's fast and ready reflexes were too quick for her as he again wrapped his large arms around her small body pressing it firmly to his chest. He still couldn't believe her strength as she fought fiercely for him to release her. He was grateful she hadn't unsheathed her sword or they would all be dead.

Paris stumbled back as Achilla frantically wiggled in Hector's arms to free herself, her legs kicking out as she continued to scream at him. He couldn't believe the raging woman and the look of pure hate in her eyes. His brother was insane for she was nothing but a wild animal that he was sure would kill him before he could take his next breath should his brother release her.

"Get out of here, for if I have to stare into your arrogant face a moment longer your big brother will not be able to protect you this time," she yelled venomously, her body still fighting with Hector to release her. Normally she would be out of his hold in an instant, but she was just too tired and soon felt her body break as her legs collapsed and she started to sob.

Hector was waiting for this to happen and clutched Achilla tighter while lowering himself to the floor with her and cradled her as she sobbed. His heart broke for her as her hands instantly latched onto his armour and her face buried in his neck, her tears running down his exposed flesh. He wrapped an arm around her lower back holding her body tightly to his chest while using his other hand to weave through her hair as he began to rock her trying to offer whatever comfort she needed while her body shook with sobs. Feeling overwhelmingly guilty, he clutched her tighter and murmured what he hopped were comforting words in her ear when she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him for dear life. Feeling Paris' heated gaze, he looked up and scowled. "Paris, leave!" he ordered, his tired eyes glaring.

Paris' eyes couldn't get any wider as he watched Hector hold the Myrmidon Queen as if she were a small child. He was frozen still when he saw the tender look and what he thought was guilt in his brother's eyes. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Snapping out of his trance when the sound of Hector's voice reached his ears, he was too shocked to argue and just nodded before he turned and walked off.

That's how King Priam found his son, leaning against the opposing wall to the healing chambers on the floor, still in his bloody armour and cradling the young Queen in his arms. He too had been shocked when he had heard that the Queen was under Hector's protection. He had ignored the many, many, protests over his son's actions and in fact sided with Hector. He trusted Hector's decision and would not go against it. Unable to help but smile at the scene, the King concluded that now was not the appropriate time to obtain answers. Hopping that the young man would pull through, Priam left as soundlessly as he had arrived.

Hector had not released his hold on Achilla, not when she stopped her sobs and not when she struggled to be released. He had held her firmly until he felt her body collapse against his and now her head was resting perfectly under his chin as she stared down at her bloody hands, saying nothing, acknowledging no one, just staring.

"Achilla?" he said softly, nudging his shoulder slightly so she would look up at him.

Meeting her eyes, he took a deep breath when he felt he might not get the words out as he took in her broken appearance. "I am sorry," he whispered softly as he stroked a piece of her dirty, bloody hair behind her ear. Her eyes were red from crying and her tears had left streaks down her dirty face, but she was still the most beautiful woman.

Achilla just looked into Hector's brown eyes, the sincerity behind his words shining through his immaculate orbs. She had been numb since settling in his arms and staring at her bloody hands. Images of Patroclus were all she could see. But she was not angry with Hector, how could she be? They were victims in an uncontrollable war and he had not known it was Patroclus. He had been doing his duty to his country, fighting in the war to protect his people, his home, and killing was doing just that; whether it had been her or her brother, he would have had to do it for they would have been trying to kill him. "I do not blame you," she finally whispered, her voice sore and raw from yelling and crying.

Hector could not describe the emotion that flooded his senses when he heard those words. His voice was lost to him as he just stared into her eyes and took in all the emotion that was consuming her. He just couldn't get over this woman. She did not look like the Queen he had met days ago, but nothing more than a broken, scared girl fighting for her cousin. His arms instinctively wrapped tighter around her bringing her head closer. Planting a soft kiss on her forehead he rested his cheek on top of her brow as she snuggled in his embrace.

The light from the sun soon left the stone corridor where they sat waiting, servants scurrying around them to light the torches that lined the walls. Achilla's nerves were nonexistent as she sat in Hector's arms. His arms being the only thing keeping her from breaking down the door and demanding to know about her cousin. No one had left nor entered the room in hours and she didn't think she could last much longer.

Just when she was about to break, the door opened with Tallous and Polyxena both immerging looking utterly exhausted and dishevelled.

Jumping to her feet, Achilla just stared with wide, questioning eyes. Hector stood right behind her ready to catch her should the news be bad for if it was, he knew she would snap.

Stepping forward as he closed the door, Tallous let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Queen Achilla," he addressed, his tone tired and worn. Achilla just nodded and stared with waiting, anxious eyes for him to tell her the news that would decide the fate of every man in Troy not to mention her sanity.

Tallous took the moment to inspect the legendary warrior Queen. She was filthy. Her blond hair was caked with blood and dirt along with most of her skin. Her amazing blue eyes were red from crying and held such pain his heart went out to her immediately. She was far too young to be leading men into war. But what did captivate him, was the beauty underneath all the grim and sadness. It was not hard to see the strong, beautiful woman she no doubt was.

"He is sleeping," he said finally finding his voice. "I stopped the bleeding and closed the wound. The blade was a clean cut but it nicked the lining of his larynx. His throat was bleeding, but he wasn't choking. His breathing will be laboured until the swelling goes down and his throat heals. He did lose a lot of blood and the risk of infection is high," he informed grimly.

Achilla was just relieved that her cousin was alive as she nodded in understanding. She had figured as much. "Will he lose his voice?" she asked quietly as she tried to control the tears that were threatening to spill.

Tallous shook his head. "No, but he will have to go easy for awhile. No raising his voice or anything of the sort. Should the wound have been any deeper, he would not be here. The boy was lucky," he said noticing the pale look on Hector's face. He wondered why the Prince was so overly concerned but pushed it aside and turned his attention back to Achilla.

Achilla's eyes were a whirlwind of emotion as she just stood there and absorbed everything Tallous said to her. Her eyes were locked onto his in calculation. Soft green eyes were staring at her with an equally soft and aged face that was warm and welcoming. Somehow he seemed familiar to her. She couldn't help but like the man. "Thank you," she finally said stepping forward and putting her hand on his arm. They were firm and formed. He had obviously been a soldier in his younger days. "I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. I am forever in your debt," she said softly, her voice laced with gratitude.

Tallous smiled at the young woman and patted her on the shoulder. "No my Queen," he retorted. Achilla frowned in confusion. "It is I who am in your debt and am only repaying the kindness you showed my son," he added in answer to her questioning look.

Achilla cocked her head slightly to the side as she continued to look at the older man in bewilderment. "I'm sorry, but I do not..." she let her words trail off, her eyes suddenly widening in recollection. "Your Lucian's father," she stated quietly as she again looked over the tall man as if seeing him differently.

Tallous nodded, a proud smile forming. "I am and he told me all about you and what you did for him," he informed her, his own voice laced with gratitude as the large hand that was still resting on Achilla's shoulder gave it a tight squeeze.

Achilla's eyes filled with tears again, she tried to control them but she was a wreck and before she knew it, the large healer had embraced her patting her back as a father would his daughter. She had saved his only son, his only family, and he had vowed that if he ever met the woman, he would forever thank her and be in her debt. He was all too grateful to have been given the chance to return her kindness.

Polyxena moved out from behind Tallous and stood next to Hector who had a dazed look on his face as he watched the Myrmidon Queen cling to the older healer. She had watched her brother the entire time since leaving the healing room. His face was exhausted, yet the way he looked at the Queen was not surprising to the young Princess. Hector had told her everything about the Queen from the first day he met her to their last meetings on the cliffs. She could see in the way her brother described the obvious beauty that he was instantly taken with her.

"Brother?"

Hector tore his gaze from Achilla and turned to face his youngest sister. Her light brown hair was falling out of it's braid, her face showed tired lines but her eyes were kind and gentle, just like their mother.

"You need a bath," she stated wrinkling her nose as she took a sniff of him.

Hector's laugh pulled Achilla away from Tallous' embrace. She was embarrassed with herself. She had gone from warrior Queen to a blubbering child in a matter of hours. Wiping her eyes, Achilla looked up at the healer. "I am sorry. I am not like this, ever, but—," she just cut herself off as she took in a shaky breath.

Tallous shook his head slowly as he placed a hand on each of Achilla's shoulders. "You have no need to hide here Achilla," he said in a fatherly tone that made her smile. For that is how he felt looking at her right now. He couldn't believe she was a Queen, a deadly and feared killer. She looked like a little girl.

Achilla took a deep breath to compose herself as she stood straight. "May I see him?" she asked looking past Tallus to the closed doors willing nothing else but to watch over her cousin. She needed to see him, hear him breathe.

Tallous shook his head sadly. "I am afraid not. I have a nurse with him who has been ordered to stay by his side all night. His wound will be constantly tended to. But you my dear," he looked her up and down, "are filthy. He is too prone to infection at the moment and needs to be kept as quarantined as possible, for now," he added as he watched her face fall with disappointment.

Achilla looked herself over and knew his words were true. You could hardly tell her skin tone for she was covered in dirt and blood.

Tallous smiled when he saw her sigh in defeat. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must be going," he said softly, his head bowing to the three dutifully.

Achilla smiled and stood on her toes and gently placed a hand on either side of the healer's face. "Thank you," she said quietly as she kissed his cheeks. She couldn't reiterate her gratitude enough. Tallous slightly blushed as he nodded when Achilla pulled away.

Hector came forward and shook Tallous' hand, hiding his smirk as he noticed the older man blush. "Yes, thank you for your kindness Tallous. You are a good man, as is your son," he genuinely praised. He couldn't begin to describe how he felt knowing that Patroclus was alive. He just hopped he would stay that way.

Tallous swelled with pride at the compliment and nodded. "Thank you your majesties," he replied tilting his head before he excused himself and left.

Turning back to Achilla who was staring at the door leading into the healing chambers with a look of pure longing, Hector placed his hand on her lower back. "Come, we will take you to your room to rest. Tomorrow we will come see your cousin." he said softly.

Achilla was too tired to argue. She would sleep outside the door if she could but nodded subjectively. She turned and then focused in on Polyxena finally taking in the appearance of the young girl. She was a lovely little thing Achilla quickly observed. She looked to be about 16, petite in size, long light brown hair, fair skin and exactly the same dark brown eyes as Hector. She was his sister, a Princess, she quickly deducted.

Hector removed his hand from Achilla's back and grabbed Polyxena pulling her towards the pair. "Achilla, this is my youngest sister, Polyxena," he introduced with brotherly love as he smiled warmly at the younger woman.

Polyxena had such a sincere smile on her face Achilla couldn't help but instantly like her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Queen Achilla," Polyxena said in her soft-like voice as she curtsied. She had been nervous to meet the legendary Queen, but like Tallous, she found it hard to imagine the young woman being a brutal warrior.

Achilla smiled and bowed her head as well. She never was one for curtsying. "As it is mine," she replied genuinely.

Now that the formalities were out of the way, Polyxena clapped her hands together feeling at ease with the Queen who had before intimidated her. "Well, now that we have taken care of that. Time to clean you two up, the smell is making me gauge," she stated again wrinkling her nose in an attempt to lighten the broken Queen's heart.

Achilla just blinked not having expected the jest but smiled nonetheless, grateful for the young girls attempt to make her smile.

Hector also smiled and once again placed his hand on her lower back. Looking down, he met Achilla's eyes and after receiving a nod that she would leave, he gave her a gentle push and led her with Polyxena through the palace.

_Alright people, what did you think?_


	11. Chapter 11

_Okay, I think I got this. It took me awhile again to get it where I wanted it, since I was toying with a few ideas__, but I think I have settled on where I want this to go. I just want to thank all you lovely people who take the time to review my story, means a lot and keep's me inspired. _

Eudorus and Odysseus stood outside Achilles hut, both not afraid to admit they were in fact scared for their lives. "You are his first in lieutenant, you tell him," Odysseus said in resolve, his eyes refusing to meet said Myrmidon lieutenant.

Eudorus just looked at Odysseus, his expression telling the King there was no way he was walking into the lion's den alone. "You call yourself their friend," he rebuked in annoyance.

Odysseus sighed and looked behind him. Myrmidon soldiers were just lifeless shells as they sat round their camp replying what had just happened. Each of them was silent, too consumed with guilt to even think of speaking. They had disobeyed their King and Queen, potentially costing the life of young Patroclus. They all knew Achilles' and Achilla's decision not to fight and yet when 'Achilles' had appeared without Achilla, they had followed him without question. And to make matters ultimately worse, they had just stood there and watched as their Queen road off to Troy.

Looking back to Eudorus, Odysseus had never seen the man so sullen, his face distorted in pain as he battled with himself. He was most likely taking the blame for following Patroclus and then allowing Achilla to leave with Hector. He himself couldn't believe he had allowed such a thing to happen, but the best chance for the boy was at the Palace. He knew that Hector was not a stupid man and would not go back on his word. The problem though would be containing Achilles anger so he could see reason. He didn't even want to think what Agamemnon was going to do. He was already avoiding the man.

Sighing deeply, Odysseus stood straight and squared his shoulders mustering every ounce of confidence he possessed. "We will tell him together," he said, his voice doing nothing to reassure either of them that with the both of them they could contain the demon they were about to unleash.

Eudorus nodded and attempted to prepare himself for said demon. "My..." he cleared his throat when his voce hitched. "My Lord, may we have a word," he yelled out, his head turning one last time to Odysseus before turning back to the black hut flap waiting for it to reveal Achilles.

Achilles immerged from the hut a few moments later, a slight smirk on his face as he adjusted the ties to the sarong he had wrapped around his waist. "Did we lose the war?" he asked with amusement. He looked up at Eudorus and Odysseus when they didn't reply and felt his stomach churn when he took in their downcast faces. They were avoiding his eyes and...

Achilles' eyes narrowed and slightly darkened as he took in his lieutenant's appearance. "Eudorus, why are you covered in blood?" he asked sternly, his eyes piercing right through Eudorus' as the man met his gaze and attempted to hide what Achilles had already concluded.

Silence.

Something was wrong, Achilles could feel it. His body instantly stiffened as he looked around his camp and saw that all his men were filthy and solemn. No one was jesting, they weren't even talking, and none would look at him. Then it hit, where were Achilla and Patroclus?

Achilles stepped towards Odysseus and Eudorus, his body tense as the two men eyed each other nervously. "Where are they?" his demeaned voice ice cold, his glare threatening death should their words not be chosen wisely.

Odysseus took a deep breath and looked at Achilles. The man's face was as hard as stone and he had that look in his eyes. Someone was going to die, he was worried that it could even be him. "They are in Troy," he blurted out bravely.

Achilles just blinked in disbelief. "They are in Troy?" he repeated as if he hadn't heard right, his arms crossing over his chest, an eyebrow risen demanding for a further explanation.

Odysseus just gave him a nod.

Eudorus shifted uncomfortably. "Patroclus was hurt…bad," he muttered understanding the look and immediately bracing himself as Achilles' eyes went wide in rage. Taking a deep breath, he summed up the courage to continue. "Achilla didn't think she could save him here so Hector offered to take him back to Troy and let their physicians tend to him. She agreed. They left my lord," he sputtered, his eyes darting between Achilles and Odysseus.

Achilles just continued to stand their motionless. He could not believe what he was hearing. His head was spinning, his palms hot and sweaty as he processed everything he had just learned.

Odysseus and Eudorus looked at each other worriedly. Achilles was just standing there, his eyes seeming to glaze over as he let his rage consume him. Both men took a step back.

Achilles' nostrils flared in anger, his breathing became quicker and ragged. "You were given specific orders not to fight!" his voice rose as he said each word. "Why was he fighting?" he nearly yelled grabbing the front of Eudorus' armour and yanking him to his face. "WHY WERE THEY FIGHTING?" he finally screamed as the horror of what this meant hit him. His jaw was clenching, the large vein in his neck pulsing and his face turned a deep shade of red as he waited for his lieutenant to answer.

Briseis, having heard Achilles' raised voice, immediately immerge from the hut and stood wearily behind him. "Achilles are you..." her voice trailed off when Odysseus frantically shook his head for her to stop talking. Understanding the warning, Briseis stood back slightly, her hands clasp in front of her. Even without seeing Achilles' face, she could see the back of his neck was blood red and his body was ridged. Something terrible had happened.

Eudorus swallowed hard. "We thought he was you my lord. He wore your armour, he moved like you," he said in defence his eyes darting between Achilles' blazing eyes and clenched fist.

Achilles just breathed heavily and tightened his hold on Eudorus as he tried to control the urge to kill him, all of them for that matter. His family, the two people that shared his blood, his beloved sister, were in the hands of the Trojans because his idiotic cousin had deceived them? He was going to kill ­him.

Odysseus brought his hand out and lightly gripped Achilles' forearm, wincing as the blazing blue eyes focused on him. "He fought Hector and Achilla came out of nowhere. She saved him Achilles," he informed, wincing as his words proved to have an ill effect. Achilles was now shaking with rage. "If she hadn't distracted him enough to move, Hector would have..." he let his words trail off thinking it was best Achilles not know the gory details.

Flinging Eudorus away with such force the man to fell to the ground, Achilles glared at Odysseus. "You just let her go?" he snarled, his gaze once again making Odysseus fear for his life.

Odysseus bravely stood his ground. "Achilles, there was nothing we could do or say to convince her otherwise. Her mind was set and you know once it is, to try and change it is like trying to stop time, it's not going to happen," he said bluntly in his defence.

Eudorus, who had picked himself up, hung his head. "This is my fault milord and accept full responsibility. I knew something seemed wrong when it was you leading without her at your side, yet didn't question it," he said dejectedly. He could hardly contain the guilt and grief that was eating him alive and he would willingly accept Achilles' wrath.

Odysseus looked proudly at Eudorus. The man was as faithful as they come; if only all his men were like that, his life would be much easier. Returning to the issue of present, he cleared his throat hopping to get some form of action from the still silent and fuming Achilles, "She told us not to tell you until after she left. She said she would send word of Patroclus and Hector gave his word no harm would come to either of them."

Briseis, feeling the need to defend her cousin, stepped next to Achilles and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Achilles," her voice was soft and gentle for she knew she was dealing with a demon and any wrong word or move would send him off into a frenzy. She could see, they all could, that he was ready and willing to march right up to Troy and kill everyone in sight. "Hector would never have fought your cousin if he knew him to be just a boy." She surprised everyone as she moved in front of Achilles and grabbed his cheeks in her small hands, her thumbs gently rubbing soothingly against his skin. "He is a man of his word. He would rather sacrifice himself than go back on it. Your sister and cousin are more than safe with him," she added with as much conviction as she could muster. She did not doubt her cousin one bit.

Achilles just stared at Briseis but at the mention of Hector, he flung her hands away from his face, momentarily feeling bad at the hurt in her eyes but quickly squashing it. This was her fault, she had distracted him. He had heard the attack, heard the fighting, but chose to ignore it. Now look at what happened? His cousin was fighting for his life and his sister had put them both in danger. The Trojans would torture her, hang her or... He couldn't even think of such things happening to her. She was their enemy; she was Queen of the Myrmidons the most feared Grecians, that was enough for every Trojan on the island to instantly want her dead.

Turning to Eudorus, Achilles' mind was set. "We march for Troy and will burn it to the ground to get them back. They will curse the day they ever heard of Myrmidons'," he snarled and was about to storm off when Briseis grabbed his shoulder.

Briseis' eyes widened in fear not for one second doubting that he wouldn't do it. "They would shoot you down before you even reached the gates," she yelled. Not only did she fear for her family, her people, but, and she hated to admit this, she didn't want to take the chance she would lose him.

Achilles stopped and spun around and was about to give her the verbal lashing of a lifetime when Odysseus stepped protectively in front of her. "She is right Achilles," he said firmly wondering where the courage was coming from to face Achilles and to utter such words. The man looked like the bringer of death his face was so enraged. But didn't he want to concur Troy? Wasn't this an excuse to bring it down? Shaking his head, he concluded that he didn't want to risk the chance that such actions would result in Achilla and Patroclus losing their lives. She was too important. "You know Hector to be honourable, he won't harm Achilla. She can handle herself and wouldn't allow anything to happen to Patroclus. Give them a few weeks, anything, before you jump to reckless action and throw away the lives of your men or theirs. She wouldn't want it," he added playing upon Achilles one weakness, his love for his family. He had never, ever, felt so relieved when he saw Achilles face soften, ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Achilles knew Odysseus was right, knew his sister was right in seeking the best medical attention for Patroclus. But if anything, anything, happened to her or Patroclus died, or worse both of them did, the fury of the Gods would seem like a warm breeze compared to what he will do. Hector being the first target.

Glancing up at Eudorus, he felt guilty about his treatment towards the man. He was the most loyal of men and a good friend. The pain on his face was enough for Achilles to know he was blaming himself for Patroclus and no doubt Achilla. "We wait," he sighed locking eyes with Eudorus. Nodding to the man, he looked at Odysseus then with one last look to a tearful Bruises, he stormed off to be alone before he did kill someone.

The sun was setting while Achilles sat in the warm sand, the fresh ocean breeze blowing his shoulder length blood hair around him, the waves crashing against the beach as if reaching out to him. He had been sitting in this very spot since he had heard Achilla had left and he still couldn't believe what had happened. How did everything go from being so wonderful to devastatingly bad?

He knew Achilla's decision had been the most logical, but he still could not control the anger that consumed him. He wanted to kill Hector for even thinking of harming his cousin. He tried to reason with himself that Hector thought it was him, but that did nothing, he was just too far gone.

He wanted to kill that Prince Paris and Helen for they were the ones who had started this whole mess, the reason he and Achilla were here to begin with. He wanted to kill Odysseus for manipulating him into coming by using fancy words knowing he would fall right into them. He certainly wanted, and knew, that one day either he or Achilla would kill Agamemnon for he was the real reason behind everything.

He was going to kill Patroclus, he was sure of that, for leading his army and even thinking he stood a chance at fighting Hector. Because of that foolish boy and his reckless decision, he and his sister were behind the walls of Troy and he had no idea what was going on. For all he knew she could be suffering, in need of him. His body physically ached as horrible images flashed before his eyes as to what could be happening to her. She was never away from him, never in danger without him next to her to protect her should she need it.

Ever since Achilla had almost died all those years ago, he had realised just how much he loved her. She had always thought he hated her in their youth. Truth was he did for quite some time; but somehow the little girl who was just like him, who had so much passion inside her, so much strength, had burned her place in his heart. She was so young when she had her first battle, so young when she almost lost her life. He had nearly died himself thinking she would leave the world and him alone in it. He had made a promise one night by her bedside that he would protect her and never allow the situation to be repeated. And it never hand.

Achilles could feel Briseis looking at him, her timid eyes darting between him and the ground trying to determine whether he was going to allow her to approach. He did want her next to him, but he couldn't guarantee his temper would stay in check and the only person who was ever brave enough to face said temper head on was Achilla, and she was not here. He didn't want to scare Briseis, he knew he already did, so he stayed where he was and allowed her to make the decision herself. She could approach him, he wouldn't stop her, but he wouldn't encourage it either. She would come at her own risk.

"Achilles," Briseis addressed softly as she sat next to him. Achilles continued to stare out at the blanket of water and made no indication he had heard her. She knew he did. Taking a deep, brave breath, Briseis put her hand on Achilles arm that was resting on his bent knee. "Agamemnon has been screaming for you," she informed, her voice soft and tentative.

Achilles snorted. "I bet he has. Probably wants me to go and kill every Trojan on this damn Island…not that the temptation isn't there," he grumbled lowly, his gaze sill remaining fixated on the crashing waves. He still was coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't going to do just that. He would wait, but only for a short time, and if no word arrived before then, previous threat would become a bitter reality.

Briseis nodded in understanding. She felt for him, she really did. A blind man would be able to see the amount of love he had for his young cousin and the even larger amount of love he had for his sister, the one woman Briseis knew would always be the number one woman in his life and she was okay with that. She knew the bond between the siblings was strong, unbreakable. She would never question or try to come in between it, she respected and admired it. She knew Achilles loved her and that was all she needed. "But you won't, will you?" she asked timidly, her fingers coming up and brushing the hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear. She could tell he was still angry, his jaw was clenched, muscles twitching from the pressure. She knew, though, that he was going to heed Achilla's wishes.

Achilles snapped his head to face Briseis. "For now. But I warn you Briseis, I will not wait forever and if anything happens to either of them, or Patroclus dies, there will be nothing anyone can say, you included, that will dissuade me," he promised, his eyes conveying the truth behind his words.

Briseis gulped and nodded. She could understand that. She knew she would most likely feel the same way if she was in his position. "I know and I understand. But I feel it is important to reiterate that Hector has never gone back on his word, he will not start now. Achilla and Patroclus will be safe," she paused as a sudden realization hit her and her eyes immediately lit up. "Perhaps we could go to Troy and see how they are?" she suggested softly, her hand still running through his hair.

Achilles had not thought of that and just stared at Briseis in bewilderment. Sure they could go, but she would not be permitted to come back with him. Not to mention every Trojan there would have their bows aimed straight for him. He would be shot before they would let him in. Suddenly he felt guilty for his harsh words and for even thinking that this was her fault. He felt his heart swell as her words of understanding sunk in. She was trying to help him and he appreciated it.

Shaking his head, Achilles grabbed Briseis' hand and intertwined their fingers. "No, they would kill me before even thinking of letting me behind the walls," he exclaimed calmly. He was surprised how much better he was already feeling with her next to him, touching him, offering comforting words.

Briseis nodded but wanted to make sure that he knew just what she was offering. "Achilles, I would grant you the same pardon as Hector is granting Achilla. I know a place that would allow us to get inside the Palace undetected. Only the Royal family knows about it and I trust you enough to take you to see your sister and cousin," her words were spoken with truth and conviction, her eyes telling him that she wouldn't hesitate to do such a thing.

Achilles eyes widened in shock knowing the chance she would take if they were to do such a thing. "You would do that?" he asked in disbelief.

Briseis nodded without hesitation. She wouldn't have suggested it if she wouldn't do it. She cared for Achilla and even Patroclus, and she knew that Achilles would not be at ease until he knew what was going on, knew that his cousin and sister faired well. "I would. I love you Achilles, you know that, and I would do anything for you," she said taking his face in her hands and pulling him to her, sealing her words with a powerful kiss.

Achilles pulled away after a few moments and leaned his forehead against hers. He was amazed at what she was telling him, what she was offering to do for him, for his family, and it only made him love her more. "And I you," he replied lovingly. "But let us wait a few days, wait for word from Achilla," he resolved, a hand coming up and rubbing against her delicate cheek.

Briseis nodded and bit her lip wondering if he would act on his previous statement. "And if nothing comes?" she asked hopping that he would at least allow her to take him to the palace before doing anything foolish before answers were sought.

Achilles shut his eyes unable to answer that. He knew what it would mean to her if he sought vengeance should Achilla or Patroclus be harmed or dead, but he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He knew it. Deciding he would take her word that Hector would honour his word, he would first go see for himself what was going on then go from there. Opening his eyes, he could see the turmoil swirling in her beautiful brown orbs. "I am willing to give your word a chance. If we do not receive a message as to their condition, you and I will go and see for ourselves. Should it prove that Hector did in fact go against his word…," he let his voice trail off knowing she knew what he would do.

Letting out the breath she had been holding, Briseis was thrilled. He was taking her word that Hector was honourable and that meant a lot. She nodded in understanding and leaned in kissing his lips before pulling away and snuggling into his chest when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brought her close to his body.

Achilles didn't want this moment to end as he rested his cheek on her brow after giving it a lingering kiss. The woman who he loved was in his arms and despite his doubts and worry about his family, he was happy just sitting here with her. He had been happy every moment he had been in her company. "Would you really leave Troy?" he suddenly asked unable to stop the words as they came from his mouth.

Briseis was not expecting that question and continued to stare at the sea in thought. "I would if you asked me to," she said barely above a whisper not for a second doubting her answer. She had said she would do anything for him and that meant even leaving Troy.

_Soooo, what do you think? Yeah or Neigh? _


	12. Chapter 12

_So, I am a horrible person, I know. I have made all you lovely people wait for an update and all I can say is I am so very sorry. The good thing is that when I was just thinking that perhaps this story was losing interest, I had a whack load of ideas pour into my tiny little mind and thus this chapter was created. I was actually working on the next chapter when this one came to mind and I am rather proud of it. So, here is some much needed fluff between our two favourite characters. _

_Just a FYI, I did a tad bit of research on what was worn back then. A chiton was worn by both men and woman. It was a long piece of fabric, such as linen, that was either draped or wrapped around the body and held by various types of broaches over the shoulders and/or girdles. Just thought I would let you know since I refer to both Hector and Achilla wearing a chiton. _

The glistening stars in a clear night sky glowing like untouched diamonds; the shinning moon creating a majestic appearance upon the desert-like valley outside the impenetrable walls; the soft ocean breeze creating the perfect temperature; the lavish terrace where she stood; the Palm trees all around her with their thick, course leaves crunching together as the soft wind blew them about with their shadows dancing against the stone walls behind her from the scarce light created by the few torches around her…

Utopia, that was what this feeling was, what the atmosphere created, and it would all be real, romantic even, if she weren't here, in Troy, at this moment. Any other time, any other place and it would seem that the world in which she stood was beautiful, flawless, tranquil, peaceful, romantic, calming and full of love.

But no, it was anything but that. She would say it was the complete opposite in fact.

This day, this time, this place…it was becoming too much for the young Queen. The past week had been an emotional whirlwind on the normally collected Queen but with the previous day's events, she for the first time since her mother had died wasn't sure of herself or if she could do what she needed to, what she had to do.

Hot tears, their tracks going undisturbed, streamed down freshly clean and chiseled checks eventually descending and adding to the ever growing pools created by the many previously shed. She was alone, thus there was no need to stop them, she didn't think she could really and she didn't want to. She was not ashamed of breaking down in front of Hector the previous day, on the contrary, she felt for the first time another other than Achilles was able to comfort her, really comfort her. He had within the safe confines of his embrace made her believe that there was hope, that perhaps she could do this.

Her thoughts drifted to her beloved brother, her family, her other half, her rock, her anchor, her everything and right now she really needed him. How she wished he were with her now, or better yet they were home in Phtia with Patroclus by their side. She needed those two men, Achilles especially, more then they could ever know. She knew life as she knew it would not continue if she lost them or even one of them. It was the unthinkable.

Lifting her hanging head, Achilla looked up at the full moon and wondered if Achilles was enjoying its beauty this night. Letting out a huff at that ridiculous notion, she straightened her posture and wrapped her arms around herself for comfort. Achilles would most likely be enjoying the beauty that warmed his bed at night, a beauty who, in one day, had conquered her brother in a way she never imagined.

She was indebted to the royal priestess for she was in fact the main reason Achilles had decided not to continue his fight in this war, and ultimately saving him from his own demise. But it also hurt Achilla, more than anyone knew. She was hurt that it took a woman he barley knew to change that what she could not. She had begged and pleaded with Achilles not to fight this war when his mother had said he would never return from it. She had told him that she wouldn't survive if he left her alone in this world, and she wouldn't, but that hadn't worked. In the end he still came despite knowing that he was leaving her, willingly. It made her feel as if she didn't matter, that his own selfish conquests were more important than her. She still felt that way with Troy and now with Briseis. It all hurt immensely. She didn't want to fight Troy because of the beauty and innocence it radiated; he wanted to fight because he wanted to simply be remembered as the greatest by defeating the greatest: Hector and along with him Troy. It hurt to admit this, but he was just like Agamemnon in that sense. Wanting to be remembered as something great, not at all caring about who he destroyed to get it. But Briseis had changed this, or at least she hopped she had.

However, now Patroclus was a victim in all this, regardless if it was partially his fault…

A knock on her door interrupted her useless thoughts but she made no move to open it. She knew who it was and she knew why he was here to fetch her. She had been surprised that she had been left alone for as long as she had been. She knew though that it was because of Hector, and she was once again grateful.

Hector sighed when his knock went ignored. Reaching out, he paused before he lifted the latch and slowly pushed the large door open. Peering his head in he scanned the vacant room. "Achilla?" He called out softly, his brow creased with confusion when he received no answer.

Slowly he pushed the door open and entered the room. "Achilla?" he called out a little louder.

"On the terrace."

He let out a relieved sigh and crossed the large room only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw her. Leaning against the parapets, poised and refined was the Queen of Queens. Her warrior body was wrapped in a pale blue chiton, the thin linen tied behind her neck and leaving her muscular back exposed. The flicker of light from the torches illuminated her tanned skin; her long golden, blond hair hung in soft ringlets down her back while the upper half was pulled back and held in a stylish gold clip; her firm arms were bare with thick gold arm bracelets wrapped delicately around each one.

She was a Goddess.

Approaching her slowly, he had to hold himself back when her hair blew about and exposed the scars that marked her back, scars that told a story in themselves. Clenching his jaw just knowing that someone had dared raise a whip to her, he swallowed his anger, the questions and the urge to touch them. The name Agamemnon immediately came to mind and he wonder just what the awful man did to her for he could only assume that he was the one responsible for such an act. How he hated the Greek King all the more. Stopping next to her, he followed her gaze over the valley that only a few days prior was littered with the dead bodies of Trojans and Greeks.

"It's amazing how a place so beautiful, so peaceful can be so tainted with the filth of our world," her words where hollow, dry and yet full of wisdom that only a woman who lived too many years beyond her young age possessed.

Hector leaned against the parapet, his elbow resting comfortably as it held up his weight while the other reached out and pushed a lock of hair over her shoulder before cupping her chin and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes had never been more striking than they were now. They were clear, shinning, and outlined in black khol, the lids powered in a dark grey. But what caused him to frown were the tear stains that marked her flawless face, the redness. "You've been crying," he stated softly as he pushed away from the parapet and cupped her face forcing her to turn to him fully, his large thumbs tracing the evidence of her sadness.

Achilla lifted her hands up and curled her fingers around his wrists and slowly brought her head up; her eyes roaming over his dark blue chiton robes; his sun kissed arms hiding the pale scars that she knew were there, foreign marks telling stories across his muscular arms and no doubt body. Her eyes then lifted to his cleanly shaven face, a face that was so beautiful it was sinful. She then looked at his dark curls that shined like silk, once again kept tame with various gold claps, and itching for her to run her fingers through. Finally, her gaze rested on his eyes, the same set of eyes that were always boring into her sole, looking at her with nothing but sincerity, honesty, concern and what she dare hope love.

He was a God.

She couldn't look away, the soothing strokes of his callused thumbs on her cheeks rendered her motionless and she knew at this moment that she never wanted it to end, never wanted to be away from him and this feeling he gave her.

For what seemed like eternity they stood staring at each other, letting the silence, warmth and comfort of the other sooth their battle weary bodies, their sanity, and just bask in the other's touch.

But like all good things in Achilla's life, the moment ended and reality came crashing back into her with such force she let out a laboured breath. Here she was her body flushing with unbearable desire for the man before her and her cousin was just levels below her fighting for his life.

Hector's face fell when she gently removed his hands from her face, her eyes leaving his, and her body stepping away from him. "My tears are warranted," she said lowly finally speaking.

Not wanting to push her and swallowing his own desires to hold her in his arms and never let her go, Hector reluctantly gave into the distance she put between them. "He will not die Achilla," he tried to reiterate, his tone light. It was painful how much it disturbed him to see her like this, see the strong woman he knew she was so tired and broken. He wanted to fix it, fix her. He wanted to make all her worries cease and even kill any who threatened her in any way, shape or form.

Achilla folded her arms on top of the parapet and resumed her gaze across the valley. "He shouldn't have even been in this situation," she rebuked, her eyes not leaving the view before her.

Hector felt his stomach churn at her words. It was his fault the boy was lying fighting for his life, that the woman before him was hurting so badly. "Achilla, I'm so sor—."

Achilla tilted her head to the side and gave Hector a small, yet sincere smile that took the breath from his lungs. "I know you are and I also know this is not your fault Hector," her eyes conveyed the truth her worlds held and Hector could only stand there motionless as he gazed into them.

"He was the one that disobeyed Achilles and I, he was the one that misled our army and I am sure he was the one that was seeking you out," she paused and shut her eyes in order to quell the immense ager she had towards her precious cousin for his actions. He had been so reckless, selfish and foolish it was almost hard to believe he actually did what he did.

Hector watched the emotion play across her face and decide that now was the time to be quite and let her get everything off her chest. She needed to, needed to cry, and he would be here for her, be here to catch her if she fell.

"He always wants to do what Achilles does, wants to be Achilles, and that frightens me," she whispered, her words barley reaching Hector's ears. It was as if she talked any louder Achilles himself would hear her and take offence.

He knew what she meant though.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, Achilla continued. She wasn't going to be able to stop the flood of words now. "He thinks that there is nothing but glory fighting wars, taking lives, destroying homes and families. He thinks simply because a Greek says that he was insulted that it extends to all Greeks," she let out a bitter laugh and turned to look at Hector who still remained silent letting her vent.

"Yet what has war done for any yet cause pain?" she asked not expecting answer and starting to pace. "He is young for his age. His entire life was sheltered. Never has he experience the effects of war before coming here and still, he does not know. He has never had to hold a loved one, a friend, as they died in your arms, had to live with the constant fear of the ones left in this world that you do love leaving you," her voice hitched as she spoke, her pacing stopping as she stood before Hector. "Look at where it got him?" she whispered, new tears begging to be released.

Hector could see the turmoil in her eyes and without missing a beat he pulled her against his strong chest, his large arms engulfing her in a protective cocoon.

Achilla let out a shaky sigh and clung to Hector as if he were her lifeline; that life would end if he let her go, released her from the protective cage he surrounded her in. His body was warm, soothing and she felt once again that if he was here, holding her like this, he would provide the light she so needed in her dark world.

He didn't need to say anything, he knew that, he just needed to hold her and he was never happier to be able to. Tightening his hold on her, he buried his head in her neck and took a deep breath of her intoxicating smell, the same smell of the ocean and orchids, he loved that smell.

Once again though, as fate would have it, their moment was broken when a loud knock echoed throughout the room.

Sighing angrily, Hector pulled away reluctantly and entered Achilla's chambers just as the door opened and a timid maid poked her head in, her eyes widening slightly not having expected to see her Prince standing there.

"Yes?" he asked politely when she just stared at him.

The maid swallowed, her eyes flickering to Achilla who now stood next to Hector, all traces of her tears gone and looking very much like the Queen she was. "His highness requests your presence," she squeaked, her body barely visible as she stood behind the door as if it were a protective shield.

Achilla gave her a small smile as did Hector. "Thank you. Please tell him we will be along shortly," he replied, his tone light and soothing as he too noticed the maid's unease.

The petite woman gave a hurried curtsy and quickly shut the door.

Achilla let out a tired sigh and mentally prepared herself for the evening ahead of her. She was expecting this, knew why they had sent the bravest and oldest maid to her earlier that day to groom her to perfection.

Hector looked down at Achilla. She was looking more like herself: calm, collected, wise and beautiful…A Queen. "Are you feeling up to this?" he asked knowing she knew what was coming.

Achilla gave him a confident smile as she nodded once. "I am feeling much better, thank you." Her words meant so much more to the two of them, they each knew it. He had been there for her when she had needed him and he knew it was a privilege that she had trusted him enough to let him.

He hated to ruin there time together for this, but unfortunately the annoying men who made up his council demanded an audience. "I know you have had a trying past few days," he stopped when Achilla huffed in agreement. He knew the late hour when they finally retried the previous night and he could guarantee she got little to no sleep. And to make matters worse, Tallous had kept Patroclus guarantied so she was unable to visit her beloved cousin earlier that day but only received updates that his state was still very critical.

"But the council has requested a meeting with you so my father has prepared a dinner," he informed her delicately. He knew that she knew this was his way of telling her that the dinner was an opportunity for the councilmen to attack her.

Achilla nodded understandingly. "I take it they demanded a meeting and gave neither of us a choice?" she stated knowingly, a slight smile forming at the prospect of showing these no doubt snivelling councilmen the Queen she was. She knew what was going to happen, what to expect. Her patience would only last so long though and with the month she has had, her emotions were on end and there was not a doubt in her mind that her tongue was going to run away with her. She was going to enjoy though the look on these men's faces when they realized she was not a woman to be underestimated.

Hector nodded and watched as Achilla's face seemed to morph. Her chin slightly raised, her back straightened and her shoulders squared. He really saw the Queen in her now and not the young woman he had comforted in his arms mere moments before. He then wondered if there was ever going to be a time when she ever looked more beautiful.

Stepping in front of her, her brought his hand up and tilted her head to look at him, a finger curled under her chin, his thumb stroking the soft flesh just beneath her bottom lip, causing her heart to flutter. "You're so beautiful," he found himself whispering as he stared into her blue irises, their intensity hypnotizing him willingly.

Achilla smiled softly and tilted her head down ever so slightly and kissed his thumb, her eyes remaining focused on his.

As if time itself slowed, Hector's head descended, his eyes never leaving hers until he brushed his lips over hers. Seeing the desire in her eyes, he kissed her again only this time it was everything their first kiss should be, full of the passion, love, desire and the overall immense attraction that the two had for one another.

Hector's lips were as soft as she imagined as they moved with hers. A hand had moved to her lower back, his thumb rubbing her flesh while the other hand had moved to curl around her neck and if that thumb continued to stroke her throat like it was, she would never make it to the dinner.

Feeling the need for her body to be beneath his, Hector reluctantly broke the kiss that caused his skin to crawl with pleasure, the heat to rise and the world around him to spin. Resting his forehead against hers, he just looked at her smiling face and knew his life was never going to be the same unless she was in it.

Achilla slowly opened her eyes, willing her body to recover from the mind numbing kiss she had received. Seeing the lust and want in his eyes brought a small smile to her face and licked her lips slowly, her eyes watching as his followed her tongue gathering the lingering taste of him he left on them.

It was nearly his undoing. A simple act had a profound impact. He could feel his desire pulsing throughout his body, the need and want for her so intense it was painful. He knew though that if they didn't leave now, he would lock the door and they would never leave the room. Sighing reluctantly, he placed a lingering kiss upon her swollen lips, the gesture reassuring her that he indeed wanted, needed, her.

Achilla smiled softly again when he pulled away, her body feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever the world threw at her.

_They finally kiss…did you like it? I have a hard time sometimes writing fluff and I really need to know your thoughts. I will have the next chapter out much sooner, I promise. Thank you to all my loyal reviewers, love you all. REVIEW__ PLEASE!!_


	13. Chapter 13

_Hey there everyone…so yeah, I know, horrible with updating this story. I have to admit with the way life has been lately, this story has been pushed on the backburner and lost some of its appeal. I can't guarantee updates will be quick and timely, but I can guarantee that this story will go on. I am almost up to the point that I have outlined, so my head is flooded with ideas along with those for my other stories. I also have new ones I want to try. So, unfortunately, it is hard to make my brain focus on this one since there is so much going on up there. But like I said, don't worry, once I start something, it will get finished._

_So, in true fashion, here is a nice long one for you all. Thanks again for all the support. _

The soft sound of their leather sandals on the stone floor was all that could be heard as the couple made their way to the banquet hall, the lit torches that illuminated the Palace halls flickering as they passed.

Their mood was a comfortable one and neither felt the need to talk, simply content to walk closely; Achilla's arm looped through Hector's, her feminine hand absentmindedly stroking his smooth skin. That was all they needed, just a simple touch, a small gesture that spoke a thousand words.

Achilla had never felt like this before and wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She had suddenly plummeted into a pool of intense emotions that she had never really had to deal with before. Sure, she had cared for men in the past but there was never this feeling and she wasn't quite sure what it was. Frankly, she was slightly overwhelmed that it could possibly be love but then again, she hardly knew Hector; however, that wasn't true either, not really anyway. She did feel like she knew him, everything about him. He made her feel so comfortable, so warm and so at ease…peaceful. It was as if he had been created just for her and she had known him all her life.

Achilla rolled her eyes, what a sap she had become. Achilles would have laughed in her face if he had heard her thoughts.

Hector took a deep breath as he stopped outside the large, double doors that would lead them into the hall. "Ready?" he asked, his hand coming around and squeezing Achilla's.

Achilla just smiled. "As ready as I will ever be considering the circumstances," she replied lowly. It was true. She would try her best but there were no guarantees how diplomatic this evening was going to be. She was in no state to discuss politics. Although she had done this many times before, the problem was that she was not use to doing it alone. Achilles was always there and if he wasn't, Eudorus was with her. She always had her people surrounding her for support but now she was alone.

This was certainly going to be interesting she thought to herself while taking a deep breath.

Hector merely nodded and motioned for the guard outside the door to announce their arrival.

"Presenting Prince Hector of Troy and Queen Achilla of Phtia," the guard announced before bowing his head and moving so that the couple could entre.

As the couple made their way into the grand hall it was deathly silent, only the slight sound of the sheer drapes that hung over the large windows blowing about due to the soft breeze could be heard.

Achilla's eyes were firm and shielded as they scanned the dozen or so men that stood no doubt out of respect for Hector. It was plainly evident that they would rather see her head on a spit than be forced to dine with her, let alone respect her.

It was hard not to flash a smug smile when many tried to hid their shocked faces when they took in her appearance and her young age; however, the looks quickly morphed into scrutinizing glares as each man judged her for who and what she was.

Achilla of course remained unaffected by their attempts to intimidate or frighten her. This was her element and she was not about to let these overly dressed men put her or her people down. They were just as much a victim in this war as Troy was and she was going to make sure they all knew it.

Hector squeezed Achilla's arm as she walked gracefully, her feet noiseless and confident as he escorted her towards her seat which happened to be next to the King.

King Priam would never doubt Helen again for she had been right about Achilla's beauty. Aphrodite had outdone herself with this one the King thought to himself. The young woman was exactly how he imagined her: strong, poised and surrounded by an air of confidence. There wasn't a hint of discomfort as she glided past his councilmember's glares that would normally have put many women into a fit of tears instantly. Needless to say, he was quite impressed.

What really interested him though was the way his son was leading her. Hector had a firm hold on her arm and looked nothing but proud to be escorting her. The King's lips curled slightly when Hector looked down at Achilla and gave her a reassuring smile. It was the moment that Achilla looked up and met his eldest's gaze that the King knew something indeed had transpired between the two.

Casting a look to a grumbling Paris whose right cheekbone was a dark shade of purple and blue, he stood and walked over to greet the famous Queen. Hector had explained the confrontation between Paris and Achilla that had occurred earlier and frankly, he was pleased someone had enough sense to knock some manners into the boy. Not that he would tell anyone that though.

Hector stopped and smiled as his father approached and took Achilla's hand and held it out for his father to take.

King Priam extended his hand and took hold of Achilla's small, coarse one and clapped his other over it. "Queen Achilla, welcome to Troy," he exclaimed warmly while bowing his head.

Achilla watched the King approach her. She had seen the smile on his face as she entered the room and was pleasantly surprised to see it remain there. It was as if he was almost amused about something and it had her interests instantly peeked. She was even more surprised when he came to greet her and was sure her eyes were conveying as much. Kings never greeted their guests like this, but here he was kissing her hand and bowing to her.

As King Priam's face rose to look at her, Achilla took the opportunity to really study it. He had kind pale blue eyes that seemed to be sincere although perhaps at times a bit naïve. His grey, tamed hair with an aged face set off his features perfectly and only added to his warm and inviting look. He had an air of kindness and wisdom surrounding him which moved Achilla to instantly like him. It was easy to tell that this man was Hector's father.

Achilla dipped her head and curtsied, holding the position for the briefest of moments to signify she respected him as much as he did her. "King Priam, I thank you for your kind hospitality," she replied just as warmly as she rose to her feet, the corner of her eyes catching the smile on Hector's face.

King Priam smiled fondly and pat Achilla's hand that he still clutched before releasing it. "Please," he extended his hand out to the large table. "We have had a dinner prepared for you," he exclaimed sincerely and motioned for her to follow him.

As soon as Achilla had reached her seat, a large smile broke her face when she noticed the handsome man who had been seated on the opposite side of her. Before she could open her mouth to greet him, said man moved out from in front of his chair and shocked everyone in the room, including Achilla, when his arms wrapped around her and pulled her to him in a firm embrace.

Achilla quickly recovered and wrapped her arms around his waist, mindful of the wound she was sure still irritated him and unaware of the slightly hurt look on Hector's face as he moved to sit on the other side of the table, across from her.

It brought joy to her heart knowing that the man before her had made it back to the palace alive and was here, obviously happy to see her.

"Well, you certainly clean up nice," Lucian said sincerely as he pulled away and held her at arms length while looking her over. She was even more beautiful then when he saw her covered in grime.

He had heard the whispers of the Queen's presence in the palace but didn't believe it until his father had confirmed it. He had nearly broken into a run to go find her for he feared for her safety until his father had explained the reason for her arrival and informed him Hector had taken her under his own protection.

Achilla chuckled and looked Lucian over. He certainly was handsome and a complete replica of Tallous. She could see he had the same dirty blond hair, the same eyes, same warm face and smile. "My, my Trojan, a General?" she asked surprised as she took in his formal battle armour.

Lucian smiled at her nickname for him and stood tall nodding while holding out Achilla's chair for her to take. "Aye," he replied nodding for her to sit.

Achilla sat delicately, her held high and smiled to Lucian as she watched the men around her take their own seats, all still focused on her. As she caught sight of Paris, a smile instantly formed on her lips and it was all she could do not to erupt into a fit of laughter. Judging by the dark glare he was sending her way he had seen her self-satisfied smile.

As dinner was served on sliver plates filled with steaming vegetables, fish and potatoes, there was an awkward silence until King Priam cleared his throat and held up his gold goblet filled with fine wine. "To our guest and hopefully new friend, Queen Achilla," he toasted casting a stern glare across the table to Paris and the councilmen ordering them to be respectful when he noticed they refused to raise their goblets.

Achilla simply thanked the King with a warm smile and raised her own goblet in return.

King Priam took a drink of his wine before he went around the table and introduced each man to her. There were 15 in total and judging by all but two, none had ever picked up a sword in their lives nor even experienced a hard day of labour. Such was to be expected though for men of their rank, not that she agreed with it. It was hard for her to accept the counsel of men who had no idea what it meant to live each day as if it were your last, to work a hard day in the fields and earn your meal.

As soon as the King had introduced the last man, the first question bubbled forth. "Why are you here Lady?" A blunt, harsh voice came from a man at the end of the table whose name she had forgotten as soon as it was spoken.

King Priam, Hector and Lucian all snapped their heads in warning to the man as the table glared at Achilla awaiting her response.

Achilla just smiled dutifully and turned to face the older man. "I was invited," she replied sweetly, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. Such a ridiculous question to ask her for was it not obvious why she was here?

As the man's eye widened in shock at her tone, Lucian had to hide his amusement and snort in his napkin. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy this.

Paris leaned his elbow on the table and pointed his finger in Achilla's direction, his face scowling. "You know what he meant Myrmidon. Don't be cheeky," he hissed, his eyes trying to appear strong and firm yet at the same time challenging her.

Hector and King Priam frowned at Paris while Lucian cursed the crown the Prince wore for if he didn't, his other cheek would be matching the already coloured one. It was obvious to all that the younger Prince was going to take advantage of this meeting and tare into the young Queen.

Achilla's smile vanished as her face set in irritation. Narrowing her gaze at Paris, she tilted her chin up slightly and met his challenging stare. "Perhaps _Trojan_, if I was asked a question that did not warrant a cheeky answer I would take it seriously," she replied in a calm voice that only irritated Paris even more.

The men at the table erupted into a fit of whispers over her tone while Paris' back straightened and opened his mouth to retort.

Hector, having sensed the meeting was going to end badly, delivered a swift kick to Paris' shin while flashing a stern glance to keep quite. Sighing inwardly when Paris clenched his jaw shut, he cleared his throat indicating for the councilmen to lower their voices. "I have news that Patroclus is sleeping peacefully; no sign of infection yet," he informed Achilla softly having recalled not telling her earlier.

Achilla, who was picking at her food, flashed a genuine smile to Hector at the mention of her cousin's name. "Yes, well, the madman who runs your healing chambers would only tell me the same," she said playfully before turning and winking at Lucian who chuckled at the mention of his father.

King Priam smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Tallous is my personal healer and the best in all of Troy," he appraised highly.

Achilla could feel Lucian sit up straighter next to her and beam with pride as the King complimented his father. It was the same way Tallous had reacted when she had mentioned Lucian to him. She had a feeling father and son had a very special bond and only felt even more pleased that she had helped him on the battlefield. "And I am eternally grateful for his talents. I would not have been able to save Patroclus at the beach," she replied softly, her voice holding a hint of sadness at the mention of her cousin's state.

"Perhaps if you had stayed on your side of the Aegean, neither he nor our own men would be lying on their death beds," a man Achilla remembered to be named Archeptolemus said through gritted teeth from beside Paris.

Achilla's face was a mask of emotion as she glanced at the man. Her mood had completely dissipated and her temper was slowly beginning to rise. "Perhaps you should be pointing the finger at your own instead of blaming me. For if I recall, the real reason I am at this table is because one of your own took that which belonged to another," she rebuked, her voice ice cold as blue eyes flashed fire at Archeptolemus and then to Paris making sure he knew that he was the 'one' she was referring to.

The table erupted in roars of anger and outrage. "You speak too freely woman, do not forget your place," a man shouted from his place next to Lucian.

Achilla just cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow at the man not at all affected by his statement. Women, quite often Queens even, were not to speak such things or in such a tone. She was use to these types of reactions though and they only ever spurred her on. "Really, and what place would that be?" she asked her voice dripping with warning.

The man, feeling completely put out by this younger woman's lack of respect, leaned over and pointed a long boney finger in her direction and was about to open his mouth when Hector's deadly stare stopped him.

"You will treat the Queen with respect. She is here as our guest and is to be treated as such, understood?" Hector's strong voice rang out over the large room at a volume that made even Achilla surprised it had come from the normally collected man.

The men all nodded reluctantly as Achilla just smiled appreciatively at Hector. She could have handled the man but it was nice to have him stick up for her.

Paris' eyes blazed as he clenched his fists around the sliver dinner knife he had clutched in his hand. "Helen belongs to no one and it is a poor excuse to sail across the Aegean all for a woman," he snapped, his voice rising in anger.

King Priam was about to intervene the inevitable war of words but stopped when Hector placed his hand on his father's arm and gently shook his head. Perhaps the words needed to be said for neither one would be able to stop Paris once he got started.

Nodding to his son, King Priam sat back and watched along with the entire table who had wisely realized the tension between the Prince and Queen was not to be added to.

Achilla leaned back in her chair, her dinner completely forgotten and nodded. "I agree," she replied calmly, a smirk forming when Paris just blinked obviously trying to ensure he heard her correctly.

King Priam smiled and rested his chin in his palm as he set his elbow on the arm of his chair. "Then _why_ have you come to Troy my lady?" he asked softly, his eyes pleading with her to shed some light on the real reason.

Achilla looked at the men and sighed. "There are things which you do not understand. I did not wish to come for I do not have a quarrel with Troy; however, I had no choice," she informed with a touch of sadness in her voice. She felt the excuse to be poor but it was all she was going to give at the moment.

Achilla could feel the air soften at her words and met Hector's confused look. She did not and would not discuss her personal reason with these people.

Hector of course understood the look and nodded. She would of course be telling him later in private.

Paris, still being enraged, could not control himself not having understood the gravity behind Achilla's words. "What do you mean you had no choice? Everyone has a choice," he snapped, his arms crossed defensively over his chest.

Achilla's head snapped up to Paris, her brows now furrowed together in anger. "You listen to me _Prince_…" she hissed, her elbow resting on the table and a firm finger pointed at him, "Do not talk to me of what you do not know. I am here all because of you. People are dying on both sides all because of you," her tone was harsh and reprimanding as she bravely blamed the youngest Prince for the war outside his gates.

Paris had never felt himself more enraged and sucked in a deep breath of air.

The anger on Paris' face did nothing to dissuade Achilla for she had plenty to say to the arrogant, self-righteous Prince. "I do not care if this war was to happen eventually, it does not change the fact that it did happen because you couldn't control your selfish desires."

Paris' nostrils were now flaring with rage, his neck and slowly his face flushing red with anger.

Achilla continued. "If you had bothered to open your pretty brown eyes you would have noticed my men, Achilles and I have not fought since the beach. Things have changed for us, but do not assume I wouldn't so much as snap your neck before you could take another breath if you continue to challenge me, my men or my family. We are not dishonourable people but we do not take kindly to such harsh accusations…or cowards," her words echoed throughout the stone walls and stunned each man into silence.

Paris flew out of his chair sending it crashing to the floor behind him and leaned his palms on the table in an attempt to look down at the Queen who still sat with a calm expression on her face, as if the threat had never left her mouth. "Are you calling me a coward? Threatening a Prince of Troy?" Pairs yelled slamming his fist on the table.

Achilla held Paris' gaze, her expression never wavering only raising one delicate eyebrow. "It was no threat Prince of Troy, it was a warning. And yes, I am calling you a coward for you have not given any other reason to label you differently," she replied dryly.

Paris recoiled in shock. No one had ever spoken to him like this in his entire life, not Hector, not his father, no one. "How dare you!" he finally roared in outrage.

Hector nodded to the servant who picked up Paris' chair and yanked on the man's robes forcing him into it. "Calm yourself Paris," he said sternly. He wasn't too sure how he felt about Achilla's words but also wasn't too sure if he should stop them.

Paris flashed his brother a look of death. "Are you just going to sit there and let her talk to me like this?" he asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

Achilla shook her head. Paris was just like Patroclus: young, inexperienced, stubborn and hard-headed. "Do not be a fool Prince," she stated before Hector could say anything, both brothers turning to face her. "I speak the truth and you know it. You cannot sit at this table and honestly tell me that the actions you have displayed since you met Helen have been honourable."

Achilla took a deep breath when Paris just stared at her in disbelief. There would be no stopping her now for the damn had been broken. All the pent up anger and frustration she had towards this man, this war, was coming out in full force. "You took another man's wife the very same day a treaty was signed knowing the war it would bring. You brought her back to Troy and forced your country to fight for a woman and Prince who have never had their hands covered in the blood of a man they have killed," her tone grew harsher as each word left her mouth.

Every man at the table was too shocked to speak as the young warrior Queen tore a strip of the youngest Prince. She was certainly bold for the words spoken were indeed what each of them had thought but were not brave enough to voice.

"You know nothing of war. You stand safely behind your walls, your family, while your brother goes out to fight a war you knowingly started. You foolishly challenged a warlord in what is suppose to be a battle of honour, yet you completely disregarded the rules and run, yet again, to your brother only to have another battle you could have prevented erupt costing more lives," she snarled venomously, more pent up anger flooding out of her small body.

Hector's eyes hardened at the last statement for now she had gone too far. "You would have me let my brother die when I could have prevented it?" he questioned harshly finally speaking for the first time since her outburst. "Would you not have done the same for your own brother?" he added, his eyes conveying the anger and hurt he felt from her words.

Achilla's gaze softened when she met Hector's eyes and shook her head. "You should not have let him make such a foolish challenge in the first place. He could no more handle a sword than I could fly," she rebuked softly yet firmly. She would not grace these men, no matter how strong her feelings were for Hector, with the pretty words they were use to. The truth always hurt and it only irritated her that they were not use to hearing it.

The silence from the two brothers was enough for Achilla to continue. "And as for my brother," her back instantly straightened and all of the men saw the admiration and pride consume her face as she spoke of the most feared man. "My brother would not have made such a foolish decision in the first place unless he knew he was man enough to make it," she ignored Paris' wince," Besides, he would not have cowered. He would have accepted his fate honourably knowing his life was in sacrifice to save many," she added.

She glanced at Hector and held his gaze directly, her face softening slightly. "I do understand what you did though," her voice was soft and caring as she addressed the love a brother has for another. "No one would be able to watch their brother die when they were begging you to save them. I cannot deny it, I would probably have done the same thing," she paused and smiled slightly when Hector gave her an understanding nod. She knew that it was hard to argue with the truth. "But," her tone had hardened again as she continued to stare directly at Hector, "you must understand and acknowledge the difficult position Paris put you in when he forced you to fight this war for him, to save him."

Paris was now shaking with rage and used every ounce of self-control he possessed not to fly over the table and strangle the life out of this _woman _who was making him out to be the bringer of death. "And what position was that?" he questioned through gritted teeth, his eyes blazing.

Achilla's eyes slowly drifted to Paris' and held his blazing gaze, fire with fire. Just looking at him irritated her. "You forced your brother to choose his life over yours, over his men's. By saving you he sentenced himself, them and all of Troy to potential death. He basically showed them that your life was worth more than theirs," her voice was dry as she dealt harsh truths.

Her words stung both brothers' hearts as they stared at her. Neither of them had ever thought of it in that regard and both were unable to form any words in their defence.

As is such with royalty, both Hector and Paris are automatically held above others and no one had ever or would ever question that. But to Achilla, there was always a line that could be crossed, royalty or not, and Paris had crossed that line.

A General stood, his chair sliding on the stone floor interrupting the painful silence. "I do not care who you are, you will not disrespect Prince Hector when you yourself sacrifice your own men fighting a war you admit to being pointless," he hissed venomously, no one failing to notice the pain in Paris' face when the man neglected his name.

Achilla met the older General's gaze and nodded. "I mean Hector no disrespect whatsoever General," she replied softly before casting Hector a quick pleading look then refocusing her attention on the General.

"And yes, some of my men have died and I am haunted by each of their deaths knowing they were in vain," she paused for a moment and swallowed no doubt affected by her men's brave deaths. "But the thing is General, Achilles and I fight alongside our men, have bleed for our men and our country. We are King and Queen and we would not hesitate to sacrifice ourselves if it meant saving their lives. They understand this and for that each and every one of them would do and have done the same for us," she explained, her head once again held high as she spoke of her men.

The General who had spoken was forced to return to his seat for he, along with every other man at the table, could not reply for they knew from the stories they had no doubt herd that she spoke the truth. Her latest battle with King Triopas was a prime example of her loyalty to her men and country.

Achilla felt a pain of guilt at the hurt that was evident in Hector's eyes and for once regretted her words. She should not have exploded at him but then again she was not going to hide the truth because they were Princes and such things were not said to men, especially not in public and especially not by a woman.

Hector leaned over the table and stared coldly at Achilla, his icy glare telling her that he was appalled that she would even think of accusing him of such things. "I do not put my life above anyone," he snarled insulted she would insinuate such a thing.

Achilla nodded solemnly. "I know you don't Hector and I never said you did," she said softly, her body relaxing slightly when she saw the understanding flash in his eyes. "You are honourable to fight with your men for many do not. And it is because of this that your men, your people have nothing but respect for you. It also proves that you are worthy to be King." She gave him a sincere smile as he nodded and relaxed back into his seat having accepted her words.

Of course she wasn't done yet though. "But I will not boost yours or any others ego with fancy words when the truth is plain and simple," she stated confidently.

Hector nodded in understanding. "And that is to be commendable," he replied. Despite the words she had spoken this evening, the harshness of them, he couldn't help but be amazed. They were no doubt hurtful, in some cases disrespectful and harsh, but how could he rebuke the truth. For that is all that she spoke. She was blunt and too the point. She did not care who you were King, Prince or General she was going to tell you what was and what is.

Paris let out a snort of disgust. "How can you listen to this…this…blasphemy coming from a Myrmidon," he bit out childishly.

Achilla shifted her eyes to Paris and cocked her head to the side, her face clearly showing her irritation that the younger Prince still didn't get it. "You hide behind the royal blood that supposedly flows through your royal veins and use it for your own selfish pleasures," she stated, her eyes narrowing.

"But what you fail to realize Prince, what you have failed to realize this entire time, is that your blood is the same that flows in Hector, Lucian, every man at this table, every man defending Troy and even the lowliest of peasants that harvest your land and do your bidding. Until you realize and accept that your life is no more important than those outside your palace walls and take responsibility for your actions, you will forever be a coward in my eyes. For a true leader does not place himself or herself above others but with them," her words rang out as if spoken by a Goddess. Her shoulders were square, her chin was raised and her back was straight as she spoke words only a Queen would speak.

Once again, the entire room was stunned to silence. Even the guards at the doors who were stationed inside the room as well as the ones outside were blinking in disbelief. This woman, a woman who had come to their shores to fight against them, sat with them now and had unashamedly threatened, defied, insulted, degraded and downright belittled a Prince of Troy and at the very same time spoken nothing but the truth. It was at this moment that the men couldn't help but understand now why she was a legend. She was in every way worthy and deserving to bear the title of Queen.

Paris' breathing was laboured and heavy as he tried to form some sort of defence. The words that she had spoken hurt as if a thousand arrows had pierced his heart, his soul. Never, ever, in all his life had anyone spoken to him in such a way, treated him as if he were nothing. And to make matters worse, the entire hall had let her do it. His father and his brother, the two men who always stood up for him, protected him, let her insult him in front of his own people.

Not being able to form any words, Paris flew to his feet sending the chair once again sprawling to the floor behind him. Leaning across the table, he cast a cold glare filed with rage and hate to the Queen before he stormed out of the council hall, slamming the large doors behind him.

Hector barely spared Paris a glance as he left for he himself was still trying to process all Achilla had said. It was painful to agree with most of what she had said for he had even admitted some of the same feelings to his father and sister. The fact that she had walked into the room and immediately shot down any attempt to attack her and put down any and all with words of such fire, he was stunned. He felt the need to protect his brother from her harsh words and accusations but he was unable to. He knew they were true, Paris knew they were true, and it was even more painful to admit that he was glad she had said them to him.

King Priam, who had sat quietly and patiently throughout the entire confrontation between his youngest son and Achilla, simply stared at the young woman in a mixture of awe and disbelief. She had not taken a single thing thrown at her and fought fire with fire. Her words were well spoken, albeit harsh, and with conviction. She believed every word that came out of her mouth and was not at all ashamed to speak the truth to whomever, whether they wanted to hear it or not. She had insulted, even threatened his youngest son, yet he could not be enraged. Just like Hector, it was hard to rebuke the truth behind her words.

This certainly was not how he imagined his dinner going, but felt that at least everything that was obviously waiting to be said had been said. Hopefully now they could move on. "Queen Achilla?" he addressed softly.

Achilla who had just been staring at Hector, her body tingling to know what he was thinking, turned her head slowly to the King as he addressed her. She was confused at his silence, she had openly disrespected and insulted his son yet he had said nothing.

"Perhaps you would join me for a turn about the gardens," he asked calmly surprising not only Achilla but every man in the room. "Alone," he said directly to Hector who looked about ready to protest.

Achilla just blinked. "Of course," she finally replied after finding her voice. She was exhausted but was also grateful for the King's suggestion for fresh air. She needed to collect herself and her thoughts for she had not envisioned the evening turning out the way it did.

Another man who had been somewhat quite most of the evening, stood suddenly in protest. "My King, I cannot allow you to be alone with the enemy. How can you trust she wouldn't kill you in cold blood?" he asked earnestly while flashing Achilla an accusing glare.

Achilla sighed and had to fight the urge to rub her temples in frustration. "Do you really think that if I wanted to kill him, I wouldn't have done it all ready?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She was tired of men and wanted to leave the room immediately.

King Priam just held up his hand, he too was weary of the night and did not want to argue any longer. "I will be fine," he replied sternly, his voice holding no room for further argument, as he stood from his seat.

Lucian who had also been stunned into silence due to Achilla's verbal slaughter of the royal family, stood. "Well, that was certainly not how I foresaw the dinner going," he stated lightly while extending his hand for Achilla to take.

Achilla took Lucian's hand and allowed him to pull her from her seat. "These things never go as expected," she replied tiredly while giving him a small smile. She did not regret what she said to Paris. The spoiled Prince deserved everything he got but she did regret the pain that she caused Hector for that was never or would ever be her intentions.

Lucian nodded in understanding and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Do not feel bad for what you said. They are just not use to hearing such things…especially from a woman," he said the last part so as to not offend her but simply state a fact.

Achilla nodded and bit the inside of her cheek. She was even more desperate for her brother for she no longer wanted to be alone. She supposed though it was for the best since she was sure he would not have been able to handle Paris, at all. "I do not regret what I said. I would say it all again if challenged," she said truthfully, a small smile on her lips when Lucian squeezed her shoulder. She appreciated his attempts to comfort and sooth her.

"I regret though if I insulted Hector or the King," she added with a touch of sadness in her voice as she nodded to where the two men stood.

Lucian looked over to where Hector stood with the King silently discussing something and then back to Achilla. She was truly magnificent in his eyes. How can one think ill of someone who speaks with such passion, wisdom, conviction? Many would be too afraid to state the blatant truth, especially when it was about a spoiled Prince. "If the King was insulted or angered, he would have put a stop to the argument before it went any further. As for Prince Hector...he looked over at the Prince who was now staring at them but not with a look of anger but with one of longing. "I doubt very much that he is angry with you," he said with amusement as Achilla turned to look at said Prince, a small smile forming on her lips. His lips curled into a knowing smile.

Not wanting to keep her from the King any longer, Lucian placed a large hand her other shoulder and turned her to face him. She looked tired and drained and he felt for the position she was in. He was surprised she hadn't killed Paris actually. "Do not fret over the evening. I admit we are not use to woman speaking out here, especially one who can not only kill effortlessly with her sword but with her words also. Be proud of your confidence knowing that you put a room full of smutty old men in their rightful places. The Gods know I sure enjoyed watching their faces, especially you know whose," he said chuckling.

Achilla just stood rooted to the floor. He had told her exactly what she needed to hear. Placing her hands on his forearms, she leaned on her toes and planted a small kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for your kind words. I am glad to call you friend," she said softly as she leaned away.

Lucian blushed slightly and nodded bashfully. "As am I," he replied sincerely before nodding to where King Priam and Hector stood to the side waiting for her. "Enjoy the rest of your evening," he said bowing.

Achilla smiled and inclined her head as well. "You too Lucian," she replied before she turned towards the King and Hector as Lucian made his way out of the room.

King Priam saw the look between Hector and Achilla as she walked towards them. He had never in his life found a woman as intriguing as he did her. Not even his wife. He may not have agreed with everything she said or how she spoke to Paris, but he would admit she was right in her reasoning. It was amazing to be in her presence, to listen to the heartfelt words she spoke.

Deciding it would perhaps be best to leave Hector and Achilla too each other, he grabbed Achilla's hand as she approached. "My dear Lady, perhaps you would be so kind as to excuse me for I had not realized the lateness of the hour and wish to retire before my old bones give out," he said with slight amusement in his voice, his eyes twinkling in mirth.

Achilla simply chuckled and nodded. "Of course…But," she replied bringing her other hand around to pat the one she already held. "I wish to apologize for any offences my words may have caused to you or your family," she apologized genuinely, her eyes looking in to the King's directly. She was not sorry for what she said to Paris, but to his family as a whole should any of them be offended by her bluntness.

King Priam squeezed Achilla's hand before he pulled away and shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. "I should be apologizing on behalf of my son and councilmen for their indiscretions," he replied as Achilla nodded in appreciation. They were after all, Paris especially, the ones who started the entire argument, she just finished it. And finished it she did.

"What you said was the truth and I can find no fault in your words. Harsh as they may have been, it is often the harsh truth that is heard." His soft blue eyes were staring at her deep ones with such tenderness Achilla felt herself crumbling and only nodded gratefully that he wasn't offended.

Smiling, King Priam turned to Hector. "Perhaps you will escort the Queen?" he asked a slight sparkle in his eyes as he watched his eldest tare his eyes away from the young Queen.

Hector knew what his father was doing and nodded forever grateful. He did want to talk with Achilla and held out his arm for her to take. "Of course, that is if you still want to?" he asked looking at her. "You have had a trying evening and you do look tired," his voice had a touch of concern for she did in fact look exhausted.

Achilla just shrugged a shoulder. "I doubt I will get any sleep and the fresh air would be welcoming," she replied not able to contain her own grin as one broke out on Hector's face.

King Priam beamed and clapped his hands together once. "Very well then, I shall leave you two and bid you goodnight then," he said bowing his head slightly to each of them.

Achilla nodded and bid the King farewell as she linked her arm with Hector's and followed him out to the gardens.

_So what did you think? Did you like the dinner?_


End file.
